Rabbits and Time-Turners
by RhodiumRose
Summary: [HIATUS] What happens when Nagini gets lost in the Department of Mysteries? The answer is a time-traveling snake. Join her as she meets a speaker named Tom, continues her endless hunt for rabbits, and unwittingly changes the course of history. Features a snarky Nagini and the budding evil that is the young Voldemort.
1. Meetings of the wibbly-wobbly kind

**If you've been sent an email that a bunch of chapters have been updated, then it's just been me doing some clearing up in the notes. I haven't amended the actual story, although it's in dire need of it. I had considered taking down this story in it's entirety, but I will leave it up for now as I am quite fond of it - in a nostalgic, self-deprecating sort of way. This story is essentially what helped teach me how to write and plan, and I hope I've learnt a lot from writing it. I currently have no plans to go back to it or give it an update.**

: _parseltongue:_

* * *

Nagini hissed irritably as she took another wrong turn. The smooth tiles under her scales were cold and slippery, and she'd yet been able to escape them. She was certain that this was where she had feasted before, but the orange-feathered rabbit was conspicuously absent. Not one to give up, especially as she had recalcitrantly snuck away for this expedition, she decided to explore this ministry, as she had heard her master call it, for some actual prey.

Her thin pink tongue quickly darted out, but the smells were too muddled and distorted for her to make any sense of it. The proud triangular head bobbed slightly as the serpent weaved her way down another corridor, before slipping through countless rooms, her silent form going unnoticed by the shouting wizards. Nagini would have tried to take them down, but they were waving those funny twigs that spat painful lights, and so it only made sense to seek out other prey.

She quickly determined that the room she had just entered was not a pleasant one. Immediately, grains of sand had assaulted her delicate nostrils and she sneezed quite unfashionably. She didn't have time to appreciate the fact that no one was there to see her inelegant behaviour, for the dust she'd inhaled was already burning down her airways and she was struggling to breathe. It soon became apparent that the particles would not easily be coughed out, and she panicked, her jaws wide open and twisting in the air in an attempt to forcibly throw the intrusions out.

Her body coiled into a corkscrew before violently straightening as she desperately tried to dispel the corrosive sand; her eyes burned and her head started to throb. She reluctantly admitted to herself that sneaking onto her master as he popped away was a bad idea. Unable to find any relief, she continued to flail erratically on the floor, her swinging tail tracing lines in the golden sand. Before long she was on her back, senselessly hissing out cries of pain as her body began to slowly stiffen. At some point she must have rolled over broken glass as small rivulets of blood trickled down into her eyes, and murky red amorphous blobs were the last things she saw before her vision faded to black.

Tom scowled as he hid away at the back of the garden again. It seemed that the message hadn't quite sunk in for Dennis and his band of cronies as they were threatening to trash his room. No matter, Tom would soon put those rebellious thoughts to bed, as he would soon find another pet to do his bidding and frighten the boys so badly that they would never mess with him again. Snakes always did what he told them to do; they were dumb, mindless creatures that were perfect for intimidating the other children. Perhaps he'd put the next one into Dennis's bed, and then the boy would surely _squeal_.

The grass grew tall and wild in the back of the orphanage's garden, the children who were assigned to maintain the garden never bothered to cut this part of it, safe in the knowledge that the matron would never wander this deep inwards to inspect their work. They were right, of course, for Mrs Cole would only briefly glance out the window to check they'd done their chores – never once caring to step out into the grounds long ago ravaged by the orphans.

This unchecked growth did mean that finding a snake was a much easier job for Tom, as they preferred this wild habitat to the scraggly clipped grass that adorned the rest of the courtyard. Tom knelt down at the boundary between the two regions, not foolish enough to wade blindly into the overgrown part himself. He fixed the mental image of a snake firmly into his brain, and then slow deliberate hisses gently seeped into the grassy corner.

 _:I am a speaker seeking a companion, a noble snake able to assist me in my plans:_ He coaxed, having spoken with snakes enough times in the past to know that flattery got you everywhere. He heard no answering hisses, so he shuffled along the perimeter and repeated his demands. This time, he received a strained, but fierce reply.

 _:Retrieve me now, speaker, or this noble snake will strike!:_

Nagini hadn't met another speaker besides her master, but she was aching horribly and she couldn't care less about breaking the promise of secrecy he had forced to make – and besides, this speaker sounded young, unlike the half-grown one her master had warned her of. Said speaker was now looming into view above her, all white and sickly-looking, before he rudely grabbed her by the belly and heaved her out the grass.

Her tongue flicked out and she sensed his surprise, and smiled smugly, for this boy had obviously never met such a grand serpent as she before. He seemed to hesitate, before he shoved her up his t-shirt and darted away from the grass where she had lain. Nagini hissed, his movements uncomfortably jarring her battered body and she snapped her fangs around some of the flesh she was pressed against, giving a satisfied hiss when she heard the speaker yelp.

The light that was softly fading through the fabric of the shirt suddenly cut off and she was jostled even more as the speaker ran up some stairs, before finally she was dropped down onto a thin mattress. Her sight now returned, she curved herself upwards, head held high above the her body and she hissed in a threatening manner at the boy now unashamedly admiring her. She allowed a small part of herself to preen under the attention, but didn't once allow her façade as a dangerous predator to drop. She was hurting too much to do any real damage to anything at the moment, but she certainly wasn't going to tell the boy that. He deserved it after aggravating her injuries even more by shamelessly stuffing her underneath his top.

The boy appeared to recollect himself before her, absently rubbing at the pinpricks of blood oozing from two neat holes by his collarbone. Nagini chortled at the sight, and the boy glared at her.

 _:Are you venomous_?: He snapped, as much as one could in the silky language of parseltongue, and Nagini proudly replied.

 _:Yes. One drop of my venom alone is enough to fell one hundred rabbits_.: It was a small exaggeration, but she was aiming for maximum fear here.

 _:You foolish snake! How am I supposed to fix this?:_ The boy rushed out in one breath, probably due to anger but Nagini liked to think it was from fright.

 _:I didn't infect you, silly speaker, or who else would give me rabbits?:_

The speaker visibly relaxed under her words, but she didn't know whatever for. If she had released her venom, then he'd already be dead. She was actually a little offended that he didn't appear to realise that.

The boy was now fixing her with a curious stare, apparently now past fearing her. _Fool!_ She was still a very dangerous and lethal snake, and he should not be letting his guard down around her, and to emphasise this she unobtrusively bared her fangs, which were slightly glistening from some venom that she had leaked out for a more powerful effect.

The boy didn't startle however, as she had hoped, but instead examined her fangs from a safe distance, muttering a few words in that harsh language her master often used. When he was done with his inspection, he quirked an eyebrow at her, and Nagini felt as if he was mocking her.

 _:And how would I catch you rabbits, snake?:_

Nagini sighed. It seemed that this speaker was dumb. Oh well, she would be patient.

 _:By summoning them, silly speaker, with a twig_.: She explained this slowly, so that the boy would be able to fully understand her words.

 _:With a...twig?:_

She nodded, glad that the speaker understood. Honestly, these wizards could be so silly sometimes. They should be thankful that such a regal snake as her would generously help them.

A laugh brought her out of her thoughts. The boy was laughing at her, and not even trying to hide it!

 _:You may be a big snake, but you are still as dim-witted as the rest of them.:_

Did he just mock her?

 _:I think you'll find that I am a very clever snake, boy, and it would do you well to think on that.:_

 _:Yes, of course – my mistake. Everyone knows that to catch rabbits, one only needs to summon them with a twig.:_

Nagini was confused, his words were teasing but she wasn't sure why.

 _:That is correct, speaker, and I am hungry so bring me some rabbits.:_

The boy was laughing harder now, and it was a strange childish laugh, not at all like the high-pitched one she was used to. She felt a pang of worry for her master, for he was surely missing her, but she allowed herself push past it. It served him right for planning to go to the ministry without her.

 _:Snake, something has addled your brain because it is impossible to summon rabbits with sticks, but I will bring you food, if you help me with a small task.:_

This speaker must obviously be so stupid as to not know how to summon rabbits. Perhaps he was trying to hide his embarrassment with outright denial. Alright, she'd allow him this luxury for now.

 _:I'm listening, boy. What is this task?:_

 _:I just need you to scare another boy who lives here – no biting, but try and make him scream. I'm sure that it would be no problem for such a fearsome snake as you.:_

Nagini almost purred under that compliment, before remembering herself and replying coolly.

 _:That will be no problem, speaker.:_

Nagini hid under the ratty pillowcase, her body curved in an 's' shape and muscles taut with apprehension. The bedsheets were dirty and stained with sweat – all unpleasant smells but nothing she wasn't used to, and she found herself longing to stain them crimson. Unfortunately, she couldn't, as the boy had told her not to bite her prey – only to scare them. Nagini didn't see the fun in that; her master was happy if she bit the prey he assigned her. To Nagini, this was further proof that the speaker was a bit dull-scaled, and she resigned herself to teaching the boy until her master came for her.

The door of the room swung open, hitting the wall, the handle fitting snugly into a depression formed from this repeated action. Nagini tensed, waiting for the perfect moment, and as soon as her prey was in sight she lunged, mouth open and fangs gleaming – the boy shrieked, and fell backwards onto the floor. Nagini landed beside him, prepared for this reaction, and immediately curled up and around his arm, her head coming to rest by the crook of his neck. The boy fixed her with wide, dilated eyes and his breath was coming out in short, sharp pants.

Nagini flicked her tongue up his neck, tasting the sweat and fear pouring off him. Her fangs grazed the flushed skin, how easy it would be to let them slide in and puncture...but the speaker wouldn't give her food if she did. She wrapped herself around his neck and drew her head up so she was face-to-face with the whimpering boy. He flinched when she let loose a guttural hiss, and she was amused as the sharp and bitter smell of urine suddenly flooded the air.

A low chuckle caught her attention, and she caught sight of the speaker watching the scene from the doorway. She let her captive go, sliding down onto the floor to the speaker, letting her tail caress her prey's cheek as she went. The boy gave a startled cry, and she hissed in pleasure. The speaker was pleased as well, she could sense his mirth and she was delighted at that – perhaps this speaker wasn't so slow after all, if he could enjoy the simple pleasures of life.

The speaker was speaking to the boy in that horrible, grating language, the one that her master had often tried to teach her – she'd refuse, or course, for no self-respecting serpent would lower themselves to the understanding of _'eeengliss'_.

 _:I want my rabbits now.:_ She hissed into her speaker's ear, from where she had draped herself over his shoulders.

 _:You'll get your reward soon.:_ The speaker promised, and Nagini hissed grumpily. She wanted her rabbits now, but obviously this speaker would find it more difficult to get them – being as thick as he was.

She quickly bored of the crying boy on the floor, and butted her head against the speaker to show her irritation. Luckily, the speaker decided to leave at that moment, and she was returned to his room and the speaker left, presumably to get her rabbits.

Tom was quite satisfied with how his trick panned out. Dennis had pissed himself with fright, and he'd be too embarrassed about the whole affair to plot against Tom again. Of course, that queer snake had been a great help with that, even if it was completely daft. However, this wasn't strange to Tom, as most snakes were barking mad – but this one did seem to be more odd than the others. As if he'd hunt down rabbits for her – that was a snake's job, not his. He'd bring the snake up some chicken from tonight's dinner, and she'd have to settle for that. Tom was not going rabbit hunting. _Unless_...

Billy Stubbs had a new rabbit, didn't he? It was a present from one of the visitors – and was supposed to be for all the children, but Mrs Cole gave it to Billy in return for him sneaking her some whiskey. Well, it seemed like the snake wouldn't be having chicken for dinner after all.

Nagini was happily chasing the rabbit the speaker brought her around the room – she could have killed it easily, but she hadn't been able to play with her food for ages.

 _:Do you have a name, snake?:_ The speaker asked unexpectedly, startling her out of her pursuit.

 _:Yes. I am Nagini.:_

The boy nodded. : _That's an odd name for a snake. I would have called you something more fitting, like Viper.:_

Nagini bristled at the perceived slight on her master. : _That is a horrible name. I am no viper, and my master named me perfectly.:_

 _:Master?:_

Oops.

 _:You could call me that, but I prefer Mistress.:_

The boy stalked close to her now, and she meekly protested it – she was the hunter here! But she was feeling guilty for revealing her master, and couldn't find it in her to object.

 _:Who is your master, Nagini? Surely you would prefer me, someone who can speak with you?:_

She wouldn't say a thing. Nothing. He would get no more from her.

 _:Or maybe your master is dead...:_

 _:Master is not dead! My master will never die because he is the most powerful wizard there ever was, and that includes you!:_

The boy was silent, staring at her with dawning realisation. Nagini straightened, glad that the speaker had finally understood his position in the pecking order.

 _:Wizard?:_


	2. Yer a wizard, Tommy

**spells**

 _:parseltongue:_

* * *

Billy Stubb's rabbit slowly passed through Nagini's digestive tract. The snake herself was resting on the speaker's mattress, positioned in such a way that she caught the last scraps of sunlight streaming through the window. She lazily craned her head up to observe the speaker, who was sitting cross-legged on the floor, head bowed and fiddling with a stick.

 _:Are you sure this will work?:_ He sneered, jabbing the stick as he spoke so as to emphasise his point.

Nagini sighed. How many times had she explained this to the speaker?

 _:Yes. You need to twirl the twig around in the circle and say_ _ **coniarcesso**_ _.:_

The boy glanced up at her, grey eyes peeking out between black tresses of hair _. :Last time you said to flick the stick upwards.:_

 _:No I didn't. Anyway, I don't believe it matters. My master doesn't use a twig half the time.:_

 _:Well, your master isn't here. And that word sounds made up.:_

Nagini slumped back down onto the bed.

 _:Why I bother. Speaker is probably a squib.:_ Nagini muttered. It was just her luck today. She almost regretted stowing away to the ministry by sneaking into her master's robes. It wasn't difficult, her master couldn't tell where his snake-ness ended and hers began.

 _:What's a squib?:_ The speaker had now given up with waving the twig and was focused on her.

 _:Oh, you heard that? A squib is wizard who is so dumb that they can't do magic.:_

 _:I'm not dumb.:_ The speaker protested indignantly. He tried to glare at her with narrowed eyes, but Nagini thought that it just made him look like a miffed rabbit.

 _:Of course not.:_ Nagini slowly placated him, before turning away. She wished her master would come for her soon. She wanted another rabbit.

 _:This is nonsense! I know I can do:_ the speaker's voice dropped to a whisper, : _magic, but waving a twig and shouting conarcessi won't do anything.:_

 _:_ _ **Coniarcesso**_ _.:_ Nagini corrected.

The speaker flung the stick to the other side of the room, where it hit the wall and promptly broke into two separate pieces.

 _:That was silly. Go and get another twig.:_ Nagini had been trying to teach the speaker magic, first by getting him to find a twig in the garden to perform the spells, but the speaker just didn't seem to be capable. Nagini tried to find it within her to pity him, but that sharp feeling in her belly was only hunger. She wanted another rabbit.

 _:No. This isn't working.:_

The boy was clenching his hands so hard into fists that they were noticeably more pale than the rest of his body – which was unusual, considering that he was already quite fair. Nagini noted with curiosity that his legs were slightly trembling, as if he was holding himself back from breaking out into a sprint.

 _:It's not working because you're not trying properly.:_ She said gently. Or at least, she tried to be gentle but it probably came out snobby. Nagini didn't pretend to be a nice snake.

The boy let loose a long and shaky breath, and relaxed his fists, the fingers coming away to reveal purple crescent marks on his palms. He was silent for a moment and Nagini wondered if he was having a breakdown. It wasn't fun when wizards did that – they no longer noticed her enough to be scared by her.

 _:Why do I need a stick anyway to do magic? I've done it enough times without one.:_

 _:I don't know. You wizards are just silly like that. If you don't want my help, then I'll just leave.:_ She wouldn't but the boy didn't need to know that. She'd rather spend the night sleeping on the threadbare mattress than go back outside. She wasn't a wild, uncultured snake – she was accustomed to an indoor lifestyle.

 _:How many...wizards...are there, Nagini?:_ His voice was oddly quiet, yet overpowering at the same time. Nagini felt compelled to be honest with the speaker.

 _:My master is a wizard. I think his shadows are wizards, too, but I didn't always believe it. I've attacked many wizards too.:_

A pause _. :I see.:_

The boy went silent again, and sat so still that Nagini thought he was asleep. Then he swiftly stood up and strode over to the two pieces of wood lying on the floor and surrounded by fine splinters. The speaker picked the longer of the two pieces up, which was roughly the same length as his hand. He turned it over, and rolled it across his palm in a see-saw motion, before letting it drop onto the floor.

 _:Tell me that spell again.:_

 _:Hmm? You'll need another twig, but it's_ _ **coniarcesso**_ _. Con-ee-arr-kesso.:_ Poor speaker. He would need to learn to memorise these spells – especially that one. It was a very useful spell.

The speaker began to mutter in that harsh language again, and Nagini realised that he was incanting the spell, but without the parseltongue inflection. Nagini closed her eyes, resigned to the fact that nothing would happen – for the silly speaker wasn't using a twig.

She had almost drifted off to sleep when she suddenly smelt something delicious. _Prey!_ Immediately alert, her eyes locked on a sniffling rabbit, which was hopping carelessly around the room. Poor little bunny didn't know that it's days were numbered, and that number was...well, Nagini couldn't do math. The point was that the next second Nagini struck, jaws enclosing the rabbit's neck and venom diffusing into the animal's veins.

After the animal stopped squirming, she glanced up at the speaker. His head was shining lightly with sweat, shoulders slumped and he was breathing heavily. When she caught his eye, she was surprised by how annoyed he looked. Why was he upset? They now had a rabbit.

 _:That spell...was for summoning a rabbit?:_

Nagini didn't know why he was asking that, because the end result of the incantation was about to be devoured by herself. Nagini thought that made it reasonably obvious what the spell was for, but then, she had to remind herself, this speaker was rather slow.

 _:I should have known.:_ The speaker muttered, a bitter tang lacing his words.

Nagini would have tried to console the boy, but she was too busy devouring the rabbit. Suddenly, the boy was captured by a thought and he rounded on her.

 _:Teach me another spell, Nagini.:_

Nagini slowly retracted her jaw from around the rabbit's head, small drops of blood clinging to the underside of her chin and softly dropping to the floor. She forcibly clicked her jaw back into place before appraising the speaker.

 _:I don't know the words for any other spells.:_

The speaker begun to protest, but she shushed him.

 _:However, I can tell about some of the spells I do know of, and you might be able to replicate the effects.:_ Nagini hated to admit it, but she might have been a bit hasty in judging the boy. He had, after all, summoned her a rabbit without a twig. She only knew of one other who could that.

The speaker nodded curtly. A question occurred to Nagini.

 _:Do you have a name, speaker?:_ The boy's eyes narrowed.

 _:Tom. Tom Riddle.:_ He uttered, lips curling in distaste, as if the words were sour to his tongue.

 _:That's an odd name for a human. I would have called you something more fitting, like mudblood.:_ she teased, and was surprised when the speaker – Tom – almost smiled at that unfortunate moniker. She took back her earlier thoughts back. The boy was dim.

 _:So. Those spells?:_

Nagini tried to recall any spells she had seen. _:There's a red one that makes humans scream a lot. Master says it's very painful, especially when he casts it. Master's the best at spells:_

 _:I already know how to make people hurt. One time, after I caught Eric Whalley pinching my sweets, I made him hurt so bad that he was in bed for a week. Cole thought he had the flu. He didn't steal my sweets again, though.:_ Tom had an odd, fevered glint to his eyes as he retold the story, and a grin stretched across his pale, concave cheeks. It didn't startle Nagini, however. She was all too used to this behaviour.

 _:I'm not sure I'll be able to help much then. Master and his shadows only ever seem to be hurting things.:_

 _:What are these shadows? You've mentioned them before.:_

Nagini hummed. _:Master is very odd. He has shadows with white faces that obey his every word. Sometimes, I'm allowed to bite them. Never eaten one yet, but I will some day.:_

 _:Oh. Do you know any other spells?:_

 _:There's one that causes guts to fall out. I'm not sure how useful that is – guts are very slimy and not tasty – and there's another that causes burns...:_

* * *

Tom woke up to a log on his chest. He brought the arm that had tumbled off the side of the bed in the night back up to his face and he wiped the sleep out of his eyes, blinking owlishly at the ceiling. He tried to crane his neck upwards so he could spot just what was on his chest but the rumpled blankets were blocking his view. Carefully, so as to not manoeuvre himself into a more awkward position, he slipped his hands down by his hips and _pushed_ , managing to slide his body out under the dead weight. The anchor currently lying across his legs was none other than Nagini herself, albeit a _very_ big Nagini.

Tom took a second to review his senses. He concluded that yes, he was pretty certain that Nagini hadn't been this big before – he certainly wouldn't have been able to hide this snake under his shirt. He and Nagini had talked long into the night yesterday, and they eventually settled into the comfortable position of Nagini lying across his stomach as he settled into bed. No – Nagini had grown significantly in the night. Her previous slender body had swelled almost ten-fold in size, the widest part now the width of his head, and she had also elongated to a monstrous 12 feet. She had been big before – a modest 4 feet at most, and even then she had been the biggest snake he'd seen, but now...

Nagini gave a irritable hiss as Tom shifted his hips to try and release one of his legs from beneath her bulk. He made to poke her but then hesitated. It was easy enough to annoy Nagini before, but now looking as if she could do him some serious damage...he gulped. Shaking his head, he fought to bury those feelings. He was being silly, there was no reason to treat Nagini any differently than he had yesterday. Now, to get her off his legs...

* * *

Something was prodding her. She tensed, but forced herself to relax so as not to alert her soon-to-be prey to her awakened state. She lightly flicked out her tongue, and caught the scent of _human_. Human? She'd only let down her guard around one wizard and her master did not smell like a – oh. It was the boy – Tom. She turned her head to glare at him – couldn't he see that she was sleeping?

 _:Would you get off my legs?:_ Tom hissed, the slight snarl and creased forehead indicating that he was irritated. Oh well. She was annoyed too – he woke her up. Her response was to lie back down, deliberately making sure to shift most of her weight onto his body as she did so.

The speaker hissed again, but this time in a way that suggested pain. Nagini smirked to herself.

 _:Nagini, don't make me try out those spells on you...:_ Hmmm. The boy was trying to threaten her. How cute.

 _:Master placed several protective charms on me. None of those spells would work:_

The speaker growled and she let out a hissy laugh.

 _:Nagini. You have grown to an absolutely ginormous size which is currently causing me to lose all feeling in my legs. Shift!:_

Oh. Had the shrinking charm worn off? Nagini quickly did a mental check up of her body – the charm _had_ worn off. She sighed, it was fun being a small snake – so many more places to hide.

 _:I didn't grow this much in one night, silly speaker, the shrinking charm placed by my master has faded.:_

 _:Does this mean those protections have faded as well?:_ Tom was smiling. Nagini was almost positive that he was about to hex her. The protective charms shouldn't have gone – her master said it was a special type of magic or something but she had been too distracted by all the blood involved in the ritual to have concentrated on his words at the time. Either way, she wasn't sticking around to find out.

Nagini dropped down onto the floor with a thud, sorely missing the warmth of the bed already. The boy was very mean to do this to her, she who was used to being revered by all. And to think she had been spending all her valuable time teaching the boy last night! Well, she was not going to do that again. Almost as if sensing her thoughts, Tom quickly sought to bring the snake to being back on amicable terms with him.

 _:I'll summon you a rabbit after breakfast.:_

Ok. She'd let him off just this once. Next time it'd be different...but now she had a rabbit to look forward to.

A slow rumbling suddenly caught her attention, the oscillating vibrations awakening her instincts – _prey_. She slowly slithered over to the door, body low to the floor – the light creeping under the door irregularly pulsing black with shadows as her prey stampeded past.

A violent swear in that ugly language gnawed on her attention, and she flicked her gaze back to the speaker who was stripping off his clothes and shimmying on some new ones in an apparent rush. Nagini didn't understand quite why humans felt the need to change their clothes so often – she only shed her skin twice a year. She fixed her attention back on the door. Nagini was never truly jealous of the magic her master could use, seeing no need for it for herself, but now she wished she had some so she could open this door and –

The door swept open. A beat passed and Nagini was just coming to terms with this new revelation when she spied the speaker looking down at her, unimpressed, with one hand on the door handle. Nagini huffed.

 _:Stay here. I'll be back soon.:_

And then the speaker left and shut the door behind him, taking with him all the wonderful prey she had briefly spied hurtling past. She now realised that they had been children, but – _semantics_.

Nagini clambered back onto the bed in a non-stroppy way, definitely _not_ bitter that the speaker had left her. Not at all.

She decided to mess up his room a bit in revenge for him leaving her; she threw his blanket onto the floor (that had taken some time), attacked his pillow and subsequently ripped it into ribbons, and she was just about to make a start on the sole chair in the corner when the speaker in question stormed back into the room, hair sopping wet and dripping an orange liquid that streaked down his face and dampened the collar of his shirt. Nagini quietly hid herself under the chair (as best as a 12 foot snake can), intimately aware that the boy was angry and certainly wouldn't appreciate her actions.

The speaker sat down on the bed with a startling level of grace, reminding Nagini of - well, herself. She resolved to not make a sound. Suddenly his head whipped up to her, and she _definitely did not flinch._

 _:Nagini. It seems that we have more spells to practice.:_

She'd be lying if she said she wasn't excited.

 **A/N I took the liberty of creating a new spell for this chapter, 'coniarcesso'. I have no shame in doing so, as I decided to follow JK Rowling by using Latin (see, it's not a dead language!). I spliced together 'coniculum arcesso', which means 'I summon a rabbit', and I used the 'arcesso' instead of the 'sortia' from 'serpensortia' as it sounds nicer.**

 **Please review!**


	3. Racer snakes are the stuff of nightmares

_:parseltongue:_

 **spells**

* * *

Tom whistled to himself as he walked out of the cave, hands in his pockets and looking all the part of the innocent orphan. Dark eyes were grinning with mirth and the whistling dried up on his lips as an unbidden smile stretched across his cheeks, before smoothing away as he relaxed his face into a more neutral expression. He slipped out of the shield from the wind cast by the cave as he walked out onto the beach, brunette locks of hair scattering across his forehead and the stench of salt sticking to his skin.

In the distance, waves roared as they hurled themselves against the rocks, but their calamity had been welcomed – it helped drown out the screams.

Nagini was back at the orphanage and probably seething – she had desperately begged him to take her on this trip. It was too bad; she would have been proud of him for mastering those curses. It was eerie how easily she'd slipped into the role of teacher – not a very good one, mind, as she didn't know half the necessary content, but Tom was cultivating a small but growing appreciation for her. In the end, he hadn't been able to utilise the full extent of the knowledge she had imparted onto him, for the small fact of the matter that even Mrs Cole would notice if Amy and Dennis were suddenly missing limbs.

They deserved it after what they did to him last week.

Unfortunately, children being children, meant that Tom's little lesson with Dennis hadn't quite...stuck. It seemed that after a few goads from Amy Bensen he was back at the usual routine, apparently ignoring the fact that Tom had previously set a snake on him. Whatever lies Dennis Bishop had told himself to dismiss his serpentine encounter wouldn't be able to cover the _magic_ Tom had performed today.

Thinking back on it Tom could once again feel the sticky juice matting his hair and dribbling over his eyelids. Orange juice was already a rare commodity, and to think that Dennis had dared upturn a glass of it over Tom's head...Well. He wouldn't do that again – Tom had now made sure of that.

Water sloshed inside his shoes as he traipsed his way across the water-laden sand, the wet hems of his trousers clinging to his legs with one ankle encircled by a ring of seaweed. Mrs Cole eyed Tom with suspicion as he re-joined the group, frowning at the state of his clothes. He resisted the urge to inspect his trousers – they were uncomfortably plastered to his legs but unfortunately there had been no avoiding the rock pools and stagnant puddles of water that had littered the cave. Tom absently wondered if magic could be used to restore his clothes to a dryer, cleaner state.

"Where are Dennis and Amy?" Mrs Cole's shrill voice struggled with the wind to hold the group's attention, her beady eyes flitting over their faces of twenty-odd children, all of which were huddled together to gain some reprieve from the frigid bites of the howling wind. The muddy-brown pinpricks settled on him, having arrived at the conclusion that Tom had something to do with their non-appearance. She'd be right, of course, but Tom still felt that it was unfair.

He shrugged, not even trying to make it look sincere. He knew he wouldn't be fooling anyone.

It appeared that one of the mindless fools in the penguin-pack had spied the absent children, as all heads turned as one to watch as two figures stumbled over rocks in the distance. They were pressed so close to each other that it became a chore to try to untangle their silhouettes – they obviously needed the help of the other to make their way back.

The matron eyed them with a frown, but made no move to help. It was only when the duo had staggered close enough to the children that Tom could make out the blankness in their eyes and the mechanical step to their gait did Mrs Cole bustle over to them, curiously eyeing their dirtied clothes and the suspicious stain that ran down one of Dennis's legs. She was barely deigning down to talk to them as she clipped out questions, eyes flicking up to Tom as she did so. Tom hid a smirk behind his sleeve and raised an eyebrow, daring her – _what was she going to do about it?_

Mrs Cole huffed, hesitated, and then shepherded them along with the rest of the children together and hurried them off of the beach, eager to make her way back to the orphanage. Tom managed to salvage a spot at the back of the bus that the matron corralled them onto, glaring at the naïve children who dared to sit by him, until they scuttled to other seats. As the machine slowly chugged to life, Tom leant his head against the window, breath fogging up the glass, and allowed a small and genuine smile to grace his face.

Over the past week, Nagini had been describing a plethora of spells and curses to the best of her ability, ones she said she'd seen performed mostly by her master. Tom didn't know quite what to think about that – that this proud, haughty and, _dare he say it_ , magnificent snake was bound to someone else. He had been serious when he asked Nagini to become _his_ instead, but she wouldn't budge.

There was something about her that he couldn't help but be drawn to. Maybe it was her bloodthirsty nature – they'd had a delightful conversation two nights ago about whether it was better to let someone bleed out by snakebite or a cutting curse. Nagini said that snakebites were more vicious and downright terrifying but Tom argued that the anticoagulants in her venom would make the victim bleed out much too quickly – then there would be no time for fun.

Nagini was also the most lethal snake he'd ever had the opportunity to know – she was a large, beautiful mottled green snake that by far outshone the muted browns of the grass snakes he used to collect. She was more intelligent than those snakes as well – he was able to have a proper conversation with her, unlike the other serpents where he'd hiss out demands and they'd attempt them before becoming bored and slithering away.

The bus they were in slowly pulled to a stop, dragging him from his musings. He must have fallen asleep at one point, for he didn't remember the journey being that quick on the way there. Beyond the smudged glass of the bus's windows he spied spindly and tall black rods of metal, which were erupting from the ground like an outstretched claw. The distinctive tall railings and iron gates of Wools' usually brought him to rancour, reminding him of the futility and hopelessness of his situation as a young and penniless London orphan, but for once, he didn't mind catching sight of those railings.

Martha, a freckled and plain girl with her fair hair pulled in a sloppy bun hurried out of said gates to help Mrs Cole unload the children off the bus. Her baby-blue apron was slapping her legs as she half-walked, half-ran over and the unknotted strings trailed down and skimmed across the pavement.

"Oh Martha, tidy yourself up!" scolded Mrs Cole, already flustered as the children streamed out of the bus's doors and onto the street, where cars were having to slow down so as to not run over them. Tom was one of the last off the bus, and pushed his way onto the pavement which Mrs Cole was trying to herd all the orphans onto, having no interest in becoming squished.

Martha wrung her hands together and flicked some of the hair out of her eyes, before calling to the children and shuffling them along the pavement and back to Wools'. She briefly eyed Tom's muddied trousers with not distaste, but despair, for she'd most likely be the one who'd have to clean them up. Tom would have smirked at the girl, but he was far more concerned about whether she would be able to bring them back to form – he only had so many trousers that actually fitted him.

As they were marched through the double doors and promptly dispersed in the front hall, Tom threw a knowing look to Amy Bensen who was slowly trudging up the same stairs as he. Only the slight widening of her eyes and parting of her lips alluded him to her brief terror, for she was otherwise for all intents and purposes catatonic. His smile wavered when she returned back to that blank state. He hoped she wouldn't be traumatised for too long – where'd be the fun in _that_?

Tom paused at his door, equally uncomfortable about bringing the mud and sand clinging to his clothes into his room and also about removing said items of clothing out in the halls. In the end, he settled for slipping off his shoes and hiking up his trousers before entering. Inside, he ignored Nagini who was once again sprawled across his bedspread in favour of laying out his shoes on a spare flannel, before peeling off his trousers and carefully piling them on top of the shoes in such away that they didn't touch the floor. He grabbed a ratty towel from the bottom of his wardrobe to dry his legs, perching himself on his one sole chair in the corner.

 _:I hope you had an awful time.:_ hissed Nagini spitefully from his bed.

 _:Thank you.:_ Tom retorted dryly, as he tried to scrub off the dirt around his ankles. The already faded towel was quickly browning with his cleaning, and growing soggy as it soaked up some of the remaining sea water.

 _:So?:_

 _:So what?:_ Tom replied in a farce of ignorance.

Nagini huffed.

 _:Well, what did you do?:_

 _:Oh, so now you're interested?:_

Nagini hissed, drawing herself up into the air and staring Tom down in a show of intimidation. Tom unabashedly snorted.

 _:Speak, boy!:_

 _:I am.:_

 _:Foolish boy!:_ Nagini then began to rattle off a few choice words about his character, and Tom noted with interest the curses that seemed to be of wizarding origin. As Nagini was fired up, her neck had curled into the distinctive 's' shape that was prepared for striking, though she appeared not to have noticed.

Tom coughed, bringing short her tirade.

 _:Well, if you must know...:_ He drawled, deliberately leaving a moment of silence at the end to further antagonise her. If Nagini was ashamed of her colourful outburst she didn't show it, but she didn't resume it at this pause in Tom's speech.

 _:Continue.:_ She hissed more measuredly, her neck straightening back out from it's predatory position.

 _:As you know, I planned on taking revenge on those two children today at the cave I found two summers ago.:_

Nagini interrupted _:Why you couldn't have used me again to punish them, I would have bit them so hard that their hatchlings would –:_

 _:Yes, yes, I'm sure you would have been terrifying, Nagini, but if you remember your lesson didn't seem to have been learnt by the other boy.:_

Nagini huffed.

 _:That was why I've been practicing those curses – the ones you taught me well.:_

The snake preened under the intended compliment. Tom gave a wry smile, before continuing.

 _:So first I lured them to the cave – I told Amy that I had found a mermaid in it. She was, of course, doubtful at first, but I managed to convince her to go.:_

Tom looked expectantly at Nagini. She nodded. _:That is the controlling curse. My master uses it to make his shadows commit nasty deeds if they've been acting up.:_

Tom smiled. _:After she went to the cave, dragging Dennis along with her – he's sweet on her, I think – I followed after a few minutes so as not to arouse suspicion with the older lady I was telling you about.:_

 _:That lady who looks like a bird?:_

 _:Yes.:_ Tom thought that Nagini was quite apt here, Mrs Cole's sharp face and shrewd eyes overshadowed by pinched brows did give her that avian look.

 _:So..:_ Nagini prompted.

 _:So then I proceeded to curse them in the cave.:_

Nagini gave a long and irritated hiss.

 _:Tell me, silly speaker, what curses did you use?:_

Tom chuckled. _:First, that boiling curse – I gradually made their blood heat up while they were staring at me in confusion. When it got too hot they started to cry, then scream. I stopped after that.:_ Truth was that Tom couldn't hold it any longer – he'd underestimated how draining those spells were.

 _:Then I used that nightmare curse, it appeared to work, as Amy was crying a river and Dennis had pissed himself.:_

 _:I made that boy wet himself last time.:_ Nagini cut in.

 _:Quite. After that I crouched down by them, and threatened them – all the usual stuff. After that it was a simple asphyxiation curse –:_ Upon Nagini's blank look, he elaborated, _: – the breathing one. Then I left.:_

Tom had actually waited quite a few minutes before leaving, needing a moment to catch his breath and wipe away the sweat from his forehead. Amy and Dennis were too out of it at that point to notice him, which was fortunate. He'd double-checked that there was no evidence on them that pointed towards him before he left the cave – just to be sure.

 _:Well. That was boring.:_

 _:Sure it was, Nagini.:_ Tom teased and Nagini flared up at him.

 _:Next time, you'll include me as well.:_

 _:Of course.:_ Tom confirmed, but Nagini didn't appear to believe him as she grumbled before coiling in on herself on the bed.

Tom picked up the dirty towel from where it had fallen on the floor during his retelling of the story, and carefully placed it on the pile of his shoes and stained trousers, before opening his wardrobe and slipping a dry but slightly too small pair of trousers on.

Tom eyed his bed, which was crowded with one snake too many. _:I'm going to need you to move, Nagini.:_

She didn't reply but reluctantly shifted over nearer the wall, giving Tom some room to scoot in and pull the covers over himself.

 _:Aren't you going to say goodnight?:_

 _:Master never says goodnight to me.:_ Nagini replied wistfully. Tom scrunched up his eyes, it was always master this, master that... Tom stilled.

 _:Nagini...could your master speak to you like I can?:_

It was Nagini's turn to freeze.


	4. Into the Albanian abyss

_:parseltongue:_

* * *

It was as if the speaker had flipped a switch within Nagini, for after the query left his lips she short-circuited and her mind buzzed with white static. _How was she supposed to answer that?_ Her muscles unconsciously tensed in trepidation, and she became acutely aware of how stiff she was against the speaker's skin.

 _:No. Don't be silly.:_ It came out much harsher than she intended, spat out in a rush to make up for her delay in responding. The speaker sat up on the bed, Nagini now having piqued his interest and he was pointedly eyeing Nagini's taut form, which he couldn't help but feel as it clenched in apparent stress.

 _:No...it's true, he can speak to snakes, can't he?:_ He whispered to himself, eyes dropping down to his hands and thus leaving Nagini with no means of trying to gauge his expression. Nagini needed to act quickly and put a halt to this alarming train of thought.

 _:That is ridiculous, leave the matter be, boy.:_ Again, her curt tone belied her words, and Tom's previously absent glare whipped back across to her, now sharp and calculating. Nagini remained very, very still.

The boy was carefully scrutinising her, face pinched in pensive thought, dark eyes raking down her body and over every scale as if trying to spot her lie. Nagini wasn't always the best at reading human emotions, but in that moment she witnessed the boy mentally dissect her words, internally cringing as the false veracity of them crumbled before her and a troubled expression fleeted across arched eyebrows and pale cheekbones.

 _:You lie, Nagini.:_ It wasn't a question, but a cruel statement that carried one message: _the jig is up._

And Nagini knew it.

In one careless, whimsical utterance Nagini had declared herself as her master's. Her master, who was known to be a parselmouth. Her master, who a small group of people knew had a great and beautiful and amazing snake; and Nagini had just increased the number of that exclusive group by one, and thereby had gifted her master with a new and exploitable weakness.

She hated herself for it.

 _:I never lie. I am the most honest and noble snake there has ever been.:_ She half-heartedly rebutted, frowning as Tom snorted.

 _:And I'm the king of England.:_ Tom scorned, a vicious glint burning in his eyes. _:Tell me the truth, Nagini.:_

A strange compulsion lulled Nagini into a looser and more relaxed state, and she found herself beginning to hiss without her volition. _No!_ She clamped her mouth close, rearing up at the boy. There was no time to spin some clever lie, make up some fantastical story and pray that the boy would buy it – the boy had leeched onto the truth and would not let go. Every sentence spoken and action made could be caught by the boy's sharp mind and analysed for more of her master's secrets, and Nagini no longer trusted herself to not inadvertently give them away. What else had she mistakenly imparted to the boy throughout their time together? Had she unknowingly traded battle-plans and fiercely guarded secrets for the promise of rabbits?

A crisp wave of guilt crashed through her, every crevice and nook in her bones becoming flooded with the icy realisation that she had potentially dealt a devastating array of damage to her master without knowing it. The pain that came with that thought was almost too much to bear.

She hated the boy for it.

She hated the boy for his thoughtless question, for disrupting this brief reprieve she had from the war, for being _too_ curious, _too_ smart... had he tried to wheedle information from her this whole time? Was he just stringing her along, keeping her stomach sated with rabbits and drugging her with sunlight and a cotton bed? Her irrationality whispered _'yes...'_

She turned steely eyes onto the boy, now warily eyeing her with a modicum of caution, the boy who had tricked her into becoming a liability. This speaker had gotten too close to her, she'd let her guard down and _she'd betrayed her master_. In her distress Nagini no longer saw the inquisitive and guarded boy she had briefly come to know, but a cuckoo who was trying to usurp the delicate harmony she shared with her master.

Strangely enough, Nagini's first thought wasn't to kill the boy – the idea slipped through her mind like oil against water – as she otherwise would have done with anyone else, for death was a tidy answer to loose ends. In these tricky situations she usually thought with her venom sacs, which by themselves were considerably larger than her own brain, but Nagini's mind had been artificially improved by her master over the last few years (without both his and her knowledge) and Nagini's decision reflected that.

Now with a clear goal in mind, the speaker couldn't stop her as she carelessly poured over his thin frame, paying no attention to the outcry that came with it. Every muscle in her body was streamlined into one purpose, unhesitant and unyielding as she raised herself off the floor she had swiftly traversed to slip through the latched window, her great bulk hoisting up the sliding pane of glass as she squeezed out, the sudden cool air nipping at her head.

She didn't meet the ground below gently. The speaker's room was on the first floor and as a consequence her side was smarting with an aching pain as she weaved her way across the straggled grass, the speaker's faint shouts washing over her. It was still dusk and the pink-stained clouds drifted through the deep blue hues overhead, the sun kissing the horizon, but the peaceful backdrop was somewhat marred as she spirited herself out of the orphanage's boundaries with a frenetic pace.

The gravelled pavement dug at her scales, reminding her why she had always considered herself to be an indoor serpent, and she slithered between the muted grey structures of outer London, ignoring the assortment of screams and shouts she left in her wake. Anxious to escape the careless feet of the overgrown rabbits who hadn't yet noticed her, and even more anxious to escape the cries of the ones who had, she slipped down the less busy roads and alley-ways until she thought exhaustion would claim her – the haste brought on by her panicked escape now eluding her. A faint whiff of decaying leaves sobered her, her nostrils caught on a hook of muddy scents. She realigned herself to follow the trail, and was rewarded with the sight of a distant woodland poking out behind bricked homes.

A few minutes later, the arboreal snake was hugging a thick branch not to far deep into the woods, the startled silence of the surrounding wildlife bringing small comfort to her in sleep, as she resolved that _tomorrow_ she would find her master.

* * *

She did not.

Nagini knew that she shared a unique bond with her master. How could she not, when her master could ensnare her mind in ways he did to no other? When he could share power, dark power; a blackness that would run through her veins and make her _invincible_. She knew she was his when he'd run pale hands along her body, caressing smooth scales and crooning _:Mine:_ , and she knew he was hers when she'd spend long nights in front of a fireplace, stealing her master's attention with stories she'd heard or otherwise experienced.

They were so close, so _special_ , that he could entwine his consciousness within her thoughts and together they could accomplish so much, complete missions that he didn't entrust with his shadows. She was the spitting fire to his slow-burning chaos, the scythe to his reaper, the physical manifestation of his inhuman grace. In sync, they were a potent and deadly force to be reckoned with, and Nagini couldn't help but believe that she was an extension of her master, and thought herself incomplete when they were apart. She was beginning to feel that unease and discomfort now; a longing for her master that ached something terrible in the very marrow of her bones. She didn't concern herself with the thought how it was odd that she hadn't felt this grief over the week previous.

It was their bond that Nagini would be utilising today, a bond that her master used to speak with her over great distance, a bond he warned her to never try to access herself.

Today had been the day she tried.

The sky was still a dark blue when she woke in the early hours of the morning and she prepared for the daunting task that lay ahead of her. She knew where to look – the shadowy corner of her mind that whispered unintelligible words and galimatias, inspired her warped desires and had her changing the direction of her lethal strike at the last second, so that her prey struggled longer and died slower. When her master perused her mindscape, it often descended on her in a mist and cloaked his journey. It was foreign and terrible, but indisputably belonged to her. It hadn't always been there, but Nagini couldn't imagine life without the wraith lurking in the corner of her thoughts.

Her master's frequent possessions and ensorcellments left her no stranger to her own mind, too used to being immured within it's boundaries as her master did what he pleased. It did not take her long to slip into the abstract form she became when occupying her mindscape, the faint and blurred outline of her presence near indistinguishable from the memory of a resting forest she used to call home. It was telling that Nagini's mindscape imagined itself in that way – a nod to her old days in Albania. Even though those years had long passed, the familiarity from her youth helped to settle her nerves now.

With some more concentration, the dark greens and browns of her conjured serpentine form sharpened into a more focused, real image and Nagini began to move through the Albanian forest, absently falling back onto the paths she had previously frequented. The sun streamed through the canopy, softly hitting the frowzy woodland floor, which in itself was so similar and yet so different to the woodland she had escaped to last night.

Nagini admitted to feeling a little homesick.

Nevertheless, she ploughed on – obdurately dismissing the pang of longing she felt towards her old home, and continued to slither further inwards. The forest began to grow darker, gradually at first, the bark becoming more brittle and the overhead tree cover letting less light through. The burnt orange and red splatters of leaves made way for blacks and purples, and moss ran rampart over rocks and barren trees alike. This was where the spirit dwelled; the ethereal personification of her master's bond.

She saw it floating buoyantly a foot off the ground, grey and ripped cloth hanging from an apparently unfazed and hollow spirit. Nagini would have likened it to one of those gnarled black beasts that croaked a rattling breath, but this figure didn't impress down upon her and make her scales tingle with cold – instead a disembodied voice hissed and muttered through the trees around it.

Nagini, having no time or indeed effort for compunction, sprang at the figure and landed roughly on the floor as it dissociated into a bodiless vapour. She thought that she could here high laughter emanating from it's opaque depths. She hissed in frustration, before leaping at it again – fangs bared wide and shining, which the phantom curled around like smoke.

This time Nagini climbed one of the rotting trees to gain some height – the gas had now condensed back into a vaguely humanoid form that was once again swaying mindlessly on the same spot some feet off the ground. When Nagini believed that she had gained a satisfactory distance from the mouldy earth below, she sailed down from the tree like one of those winged rabbits, intent on landing on the spirit and pinning it down.

Gleaming scales twisted over each other in knots as Nagini tangled herself around the indistinct body, before a fine cloud hissed from between her coils and seeped out as the ghost once again collapsed into gaseous form, laughing all the while in mockery of her.

Nagini conceded that this was not the way to go about awakening the bond.

This was _her_ mindscape, she should not hold so little control against this creature! Clinging on to that thought, she drew together all her mental power, seeking absolute control over her mind. A breeze picked up, that turned into a wind which became a gale, and the weightless spirit struggled and squirmed in the grip of an invisible force that it could not see.

Nagini weakly cackled in victory, already exhausted from this mental exercise, before focusing on the spirit and the bond it represented. The dark turbulent mass loomed in front of her, before rushing towards her and everything went black as Nagini breached the bond.

* * *

She was met by an abyss.

There was nothing there. No sound, no activity, a lifeless and desolate expanse which nothing inhabited, not even light itself. The cold presence that she usually felt when her master accessed the bond was not present, it was as if he had never existed. Nagini faltered, confused and tired, and a little bit scared. _If she couldn't find her master..._

 _No!_ There must be another way, she must be doing it wrong, she must try harder...

She tore her way through the deafening silence she had followed the bond to, frantically searching for any form of life. Her scales glided over nothing, her tongue numbing in her mouth after pointlessly flicking out, her eyes covered by a darkness normally only seen in the dead hours of night.

It may have been two seconds or it may have been an eternity that she slithered through the furthest channels from her mind, all the while nothing changed or existed.

Then, Nagini felt it. A repulsion, not dissimilar to when two magnets with sides of the same polarity are forced together. Even though every instinct in her screamed to turn around, back to the safety of her Albanian mindscape, Nagini knew that this the only way to her master. With some difficulty she pressed on, not even daring to stop to catch her breath in fear that if she did she might not be able to continue. She didn't know what she was looking for as she blindly struggled forward, head and neck straining with an unknown weight and pressure trying to push her back. When it reached the point where her head was throbbing and it felt as every single bone along her spine was fracturing, she hit a wall.

It was a wall made of no material known to her; not rock nor brick nor wood. From what she could feel, it had no temperature and was impossibly smooth. However, Nagini wasn't paying much attention to all that as she was trying to break her way through it, repeatedly head-butting and slamming her body against it even as every part of her ached. She could only hope that her master was beyond that wall...

Then the wall disappeared and Nagini was instantly unconscious in an explosion of light.

* * *

When Nagini woke up it was as if the preceding events had been a dream. The scattered pine leaves cushioning her on the forest floor gave way to her shivering form and clumped together into small mounds, lining her length and subsequently creating a shallow in the earth. She must have fallen from the tree at some point, for this forest was not her one back home in Albania. She must be back in the real world. As she tried to recall her quest to open the bond she could only remember brief snapshots, of battling with a dark mist and traipsing through an unrelenting abyss.

It obviously had not worked.

Nagini was engulfed by a potent grief; she had no way back to her master – if he hadn't already come for her by now, then he never would.

No, that _couldn't_ be true – she just had to make do for now, and she would come across her master eventually and everything would be alright again. All she had to do was wait. _Wait for what?_ asked a traitorous voice at the back of her head. _The opportunity to re-join the wizarding world_ , she replied after thinking it over. She was more likely to come across her master there than any other place.

But how would she do that?

The boy! He would be going to that school her master her told her about – Hogwash or something – and that was in the wizarding world. Nagini brightened, a new plan forming. Even though she would have to return back to the boy – and she would not apologise for anything, mind – this was the best plan she had for getting back to her master. And if this plan had the additional benefit of free rabbits then that was just a coincidence.

The thought of rabbits drew her attention to a sharp and bitter pain emanating from her belly, reminding her of how utterly exhausting that unsuccessful attempt had been. The hunger sharpened her mind and ruthlessly cast all other thoughts aside, and in that moment all that mattered were the scents eclipsing her senses.

 _Rabbit!_ yelled her all her basic and ingrained instincts, the wild earthy taste on her tongue being her sole focus at this point. Nagini sped along the ground, twigs cracking beneath her and soggy orange leaves clinging to her sides. The rich smell of mud warned her and she circumnavigated around a bogged-down patch, her scales already staining and tinting brown without the addition of more.

She followed the scent through thorny bushed and tall grasses, under leafy ferns and over masses of pinecones. She stalked the smell until she spied a fluffy, fat rabbit snuffling under a tree.

The rabbit had no chance.

The crimson blood leaked into her mouth as the rabbit wriggled between her jaws and kicked uselessly at her body, which was slowly tightening around the rabbits squirming form. Nagini could feel the strong and furious heartbeat thumping through the fur and against her scales, and blood gurgled into her mouth as the rabbit slowly grew limp and stiffened, the fragile heart now weakly pattering. Nagini hung on for a few more minutes before loosening herself around the lifeless form, before unhinging her jaws and swallowing the rabbit whole – her upper body slowly oscillating to push the bulge away from her head.

Ignoring all thoughts about her master, she climbed the gangly tree, and contently lay along one of it's outstretched branches, her tail loosely coiled around the thick limb. With a comforting weight in her belly and a plan on her mind, Nagini drifted off into a dreamless sleep as the sun was just creeping over the horizon.

* * *

Meanwhile, Tom Riddle bolted out of bed and darted into the bathroom, sweat staining his t-shirt, gagging into the toilet to try to rid a disgustingly warm and metallic taste from his mouth. The all too recognisable taste weighed down his tongue like a handful of copper pennies, and as he spat into the bowl he was surprised to see that his saliva was completely clear, even though the taste of the bloodied rabbit still lingered on his tongue.


	5. Dummy, Demon, and Divination

_:parseltongue:_

 _(mental image)_

 _'thoughts'_

* * *

Tom's lower lip trembled, sticky with spit as he hoarsely gulped lungfuls of air. Brunette locks were darkened by sweat and plastered to his forehead, an unruly damp curl grazing his eyelashes. Grey eyes were wide open and the dilated pupils swivelled around frantically, unseeing, the images from his dream burnt too deep into his retinas.

He had dropped onto his knees, head slumped against the cold tiled wall and shoulders heaving with exhaustion. Tom refused to shut his eyes, straining to keep them open even when they began to burn and tear up, because if he closed them –

 _(warmfleshredfurredheartredfear)_

– then his nightmare came back to haunt him.

This was it, wasn't it? Tom was going _mad_. All the insults they had thrown at him, all the snide comments and blunt shouts borne from childish anger had been _right_ and he had been _wrong_. They called him freak because he could do magic, but Tom laughed at that because they had been _too ignorant_ to realise that he wasn't _weird_ , simply _better_. They called him _fairy_ because he was thin and pretty, _stupid_ because he had no friends, and _mad_ because he didn't act like them.

Tom had always known better. They were jealous of his good looks compared to their chubby, spotty faces and he sneered at the very idea of conversing pleasantly with any one of them. He wasn't stupid, no, he was far smarter than them for staying as far away as possible from their little cliques. And _mad_...Tom knew that they only called him that because he saw things differently, he had _ambition_ and _intelligence_ and an _understanding_ that their feeble brains lacked. That was why they thought he was crazy, because he was superior to them in every way and they were too simple too comprehend that.

But Tom was currently shivering on the bathroom floor.

He blinked _(bloodbubbledstainedgurgled)_ and shaking fingers rose to softly touch his lips and hesitantly feel the smooth skin _(crustybloodcracking)_ , and his other hand clenched into a fist, knuckles white on the level tiles _(crunchingorangeleavestwigs)._

What had been that dream? Tom's dreams were usually muffled, shifting scenes that he struggled to remember come morning. This dream – nightmare – had been too real. _Psychotic episode..._ an inner voice unhelpfully contributed. That's what the matron said when he would lash out as a younger child, all too angry at the world. They told him he was a demon, all fiery and red and the cause of unnecessary destruction. Tom's outbursts had long since cooled and he'd mastered the art of vengeance, the screaming boy of his youth had died years ago.

Was this dream a memory or echo of his childhood? Did the devil still reside in him, simply lying dormant instead of dying as he had previously presumed? Tom had killed the devil, the possessing madness that had controlled his earliest days. He no longer had violent tantrums, followed by severe bouts of inactivity and then unprovoked rage. Looking back on his past, he could barely remember anything of sense in his convoluted and chaotic youth, as if a tornado had consumed all his memories and spat them out here and there.

He'd saved himself, conditioned by the older children that nine times out of ten, his _specialness_ wouldn't save him when they'd attack. That most of the time none of the matrons or helpers cared if he was crying, or screaming, or doing his upmost to wreak havoc on everyone else. He told himself that the better way, the surer way to get what he wanted would only come about if he ceased his current actions sparked by a fierce temper.

Now, he was roughly brought back to remembering those days, and the parasite that lived off of him.

 _(teethclampingsnappingtearing)_

Tom clenched his eyes shut, trying to shut out the images but forgetting that they held an easier reign in the darkness.

 _(jawunhingingopeningdislocating)_

Hands grabbed at his face, desperately reassuring himself that half his head had not just been severed. A phantom pain in his jaw told him otherwise. _Oh God..._

Tom had always scoffed at religion – it was nothing other than propaganda to control mindless sheep; but this was something beyond what he thought possible, beyond what he thought magic capable of. Was he being punished? If God was real, was he condemning Tom and allowing the devil to come back into Tom's life? Tom bit his lip as another flash of red and the passionate urge to kill overwhelmed him in a wave.

 _'_ _Please, no, I don't want this...'_

A bead of blood bloomed from his lip before falling, splattering onto the tiles, the crimson stark against the unblemished white. His mouth grew heavy with blood, cascading out the corners of his lips and he tried to swallow it all down before he drowned and –

Nothing. The ridged scarlet circle remained alone on the tiles.

Tom buried his head in his knees, which he had drawn up to his body. Hands clamped against his ears, trying to block out the silence – or worse; the noises of screeching birds and the desperate _thud thud thud_ of his prey's feet. A cool wind picked up and sang a haunting and mournful song through the tired trees standing forlornly around him. Tom shivered, leaves cracking and pine needles digging into the palms of his hands as he curled himself into a tighter ball, back against the trunk of a weeping oak tree. He dropped his head back to rest against the bark, but he lost his balance and his head slammed onto the tiles below, staring upwards at the birds dancing through the early sky.

Tom moaned, both in pain at his currently throbbing head and at the state he was in. He swept his hands across the floor by his side, relieved when he was met by the solid bathroom floor before tensing as his elbow hit a pinecone. He sat up straight, causing his head to spin and vision darken, before sight was returned to him and he was met by the welcomed dirty wall of the orphanage's bathroom. He shakily got to his feet, and slowly trudged back to his room, his gaze sweeping every corner of the hallway and waiting in trepidation for that forest to come into view once more.

It didn't, however, and Tom somewhat hesitantly sank back into the scratchy mattress of his bed, rolling over onto his side with his face pushed into the pillow. It was all too easy to fall back asleep.

* * *

Nagini wasn't lost, simply...displaced. It was hardly _her_ fault, she wasn't the one designing all the buildings to look exactly the same. Though, to be quite honest, she wasn't sure _whose_ fault it actually was. Probably Dummy's. Her master was always blaming everything on this 'Dummy'.

 _:Stupid Dummy.:_ Nagini cursed as she once again slithered onto a street she didn't recognise. This was beginning to be uncomfortably similar to the circumstances she had found herself in before waking up in the speaker's garden. How _had_ she gotten there in the first place, anyway? She thought it over for a second, before cursing Dummy once again. She knew from her master that Dummy had terrible fashion sense and an even more terrible sense of, well...everything else. Meaning he probably was to blame.

A woman shrieked in front of her and took off down the road. Nagini snorted. She was obviously no longer hungry after that rabbit, thank-you-very-much. And that woman didn't look appetising, either. Nagini peered after the flying pink and white dress that was rapidly shrinking in the distance. Hmmm, far too stringy.

Stupid grey building number...something... came into view. Nagini was fairly sure that it wasn't where the speaker lived. Or maybe it was? Sharp eyes inspected the building. Hmm. No children or depressing atmosphere. Nagini slithered on, intent on finding another grey and stupid building, of which there seemed to be _plenty_.

 _:Stupid speaker.:_ Nagini hissed, why did he have to live in such a silly place? Her master had _style_. They lived in a massive manor with big rooms and lots of rodents. Maybe she could persuade the speaker to move out? There may not be any point in it, however, because the speaker would be going to Hogwash soon. Or at least she thought he would be, as she didn't know how old the speaker was. She'd have to ask him that.

Nagini crossed the road and slipped onto the pavement. There weren't any of those metal beasts on the road, so she didn't have to worry about one biting her. If one had dared, she would have attacked and nipped it's rubber underbelly. Luckily for the beasts, they obviously knew how dangerous Nagini was and decided to make their migration later. Nagini didn't mind – they tasted icky anyway.

The sweet and musical sounds of screams once again filled the air, this time accompanied by delightfully smooth baritone shouts. Nagini allowed herself to wallow and sway in the bliss of it, before sharply springing to the side as a blunt walking stick slammed into the pavement where her head had just been. Nagini and the man yielding the stick stared at each other in equal disbelief. Then as the faint drops of perspiration began to accumulate on the man's forehead she struck, her triangular head enclosing an ankle and her muscled body quickly following to hug the foot underneath.

A visceral cry of pain saturated the air and Nagini let go just as the leg she was straddling kicked up into the air in an apparent effort to shake her off. Nagini snorted as the groaning man lay on the ground, wooden stick of doom lying pitifully beside him. When would these people learn? She was a very busy serpent, and while she did find the occasional spar enjoyable, she didn't have time for one every second of the day. The man should count himself lucky that Nagini had spared his life, as her master had usually made her do when sparring one of his shadows.

Nagini carried on down the street, ignoring the distressed woman kneeling down by her defeated opponent. This next building looked wretched enough to be her speaker's home...and there were children! Nagini perked up and made her way over to the building, sliding under it's railings, anticipation building at the thought of seeing her speaker again. Nagini conveniently decided to forget the rather abrupt manner in which she had left him the previous night.

Oh...This wasn't where her speaker lived. Nagini sighed, the trouble she was going to! Nagini was about to slip back under the railings when a familiar voice stopped her in her tracks.

 _:Nagini?:_

Nagini swivelled back around, taking in the boy currently staring at her, though it was difficult to see against the harsh light of an autumn sun. She squinted – as best as a snake can – and could roughly make out the distinctive features of the very speaker she had been searching for.

 _:Boy.:_ She nodded astutely, making sure to hide any traces of joy or jubilation from her tone. She was so relieved to have finally found the speaker and thereby put in an end to this foolish game of hide-and-seek, but she wasn't going to let the boy know that. It was all his fault, after all. And Dummy's, she added as an afterthought.

The boy kneeled down beside her, shielding her from the view of the other children torturing each other in the barren grounds. Bruised purple eyes indicative of a restless sleep wrinkled wearily at her, a half-smile tugging at the corner's of the boy's mouth.

 _:Missed me, then?:_

 _:As if.:_ Nagini snorted, pointedly staring away from Tom in an attempt to ignore his idiotic smug face.

 _:You can't be here, Nagini.:_ The speaker's voice had dropped from teasing to serious. _:It's not safe. For either of us.:_

 _:Where are we then?:_ Nagini asked curiously, trying to crane her head around Tom's body to have another look at the building.

Tom slapped her head away.

 _:Excuse me?!:_

 _:Shh. We're at school.:_ The speaker scowled, evidently not pleased with this situation either.

Nagini started, surprised. _:Hogwash?:_

 _:Hog-what?:_ The boy looked utterly bemused at her question.

 _:It's a school.:_ She replied helpfully.

 _:There are lots of schools, Nagini.:_ He drawled. _:All with different names.:_

 _:Really?:_ Nagini didn't know what to make of that, her master had once told her that Hogwash was the only school in Britain.

 _:Yes. Really.:_ The boy looked at Nagini with an indiscernible look in his eye.

 _:Is – Hogwash – a wizarding school?:_

 _:Yes...:_ Nagini enunciated slowly, unsure at the speaker's line of reasoning. The speaker got off his knees and sat in the dirt, cross-legged and head bowed. Nagini could see a smirk peeking out from under the dark brown locks of hair. She decided to continue the conversation after he apparently wasn't going to elaborate further.

 _:So... do muggles have schools, then?:_

Tom glanced back at her, the familiar look of bewilderment once again gracing his pale face.

 _:Muggles?:_

 _:Non-wizards.:_ She explained, recognising his confusion for what it was. The boy acknowledged this with a small nod.

 _:Yes, they do.:_ He confirmed. He hesitated, and then uncertainty made way for resignation and the speaker sighed. _:Why does this surprise you, Nagini?:_

 _:It just seems silly. Why would they have schools if they can't learn or do anything?:_

The boy's head fell into his hands and a soft groan reached her ears.

 _:Boy? Are you in pain?:_

 _:I suppose your master told you this.:_ He retorted, ignoring her question. Nagini hesitated before nodding dumbly. The boy gave a short and sharp laugh. Nagini didn't know what she was supposed to find funny.

A clanging sound rang out across the grounds and the shouts and screams of the children abruptly cut off. The boy slowly stood back up, rubbing his head as he did so.

 _:I have to go now, Nagini. Hide under that bush.:_ The speaker gestured with a pointed hand to a clump of leaves lining one of the school's boundary walls. _:We'll talk later.:_

It wasn't a request. The speaker walked off and back into the building, leaving a miffed snake who begrudging followed out his instruction, muttering colourful words under her breath as she did so. She hissed as a bird with a red breast hopped down onto the dirt beside her, getting a sense of satisfaction as it quickly scarpered away. The boy better get back to her soon.


	6. Christmas, Chicken, and Cole

_:parseltongue:_

 **spells**

* * *

 _25_ _th_ _December, 1937_

Mrs Cole caught a faceful of steam as she pulled the oven door open, the small glasses perched on the tip of her nose instantly fogging up. She tightly pursed her thin lips together and hobbled to the side as the hot mist flooded the kitchen, frowning as she waited for the white plumes to disperse. The clear ringing and clanging of metal-on-metal alerted her to the arrival of Martha, who had pushed the door open with an elbow and quickly marched through, untamed fair hair escaping a messy bun and arms laden with a heavy stack of plates.

Martha dumped the dishes onto one of the dirty counter-tops, giving a light laugh and smiling weakly at the matron, before showing off her arms which were riddled with deep red and purple impressions.

"Those plates sure are heavy, Mrs Cole."

The matron in question gave her an unimpressed look, before bustling past the helper and clicking the door shut.

"The little blighters will scuttle into the kitchen like starved rats if you leave the door open." She offered by way of explanation, raising an eyebrow at the flustered girl.

"Oh – no, I didn't mean to-"

The matron tutted and casted a cursory glance over the stack of plates Martha had collected. She picked the top plate up, and tilted it under the light of a flickering bulb. The warped metal reflected the light oddly around the cluttered room. Martha blushed.

"They're the only ones we've got, ma'am." She shrugged, her worn ballet pumps shuffling awkwardly on the floor, the rubber soles squeaking. Mrs Cole jerked her head towards the open oven.

"Well go on then – take it out! I sure hope that you didn't expect me to do any heavy-lifting."

Martha hurriedly nodded, and bent down to the oven and stuck her hands inside to clasp the saucepan. She quickly reared back and hissed, rushing over to the sink and plunging her hands into the murky washing-up water. Mrs Cole scoffed and grabbed a thick flannel out of a half-open drawer, waiting impatiently as Martha cooled off her red hands in the lukewarm water. Finally, when the raw flesh finally emerged, the matron thrust the checked cloth onto Martha with an exasperated sigh.

Martha flushed, her face going as pink as her hands, and muttered out a 'thank you'. Her hands now tightly wrapped with by a thick flannel, she gingerly lifted the huge pot out of the oven, and plonked it down on the side. Her freckled face peered into the saucepan and eyed the bubbling liquid, her nose wrinkling in distaste.

"Did we really have to cut the chicken down into a soup, Mrs Cole?"

Mrs Cole followed Martha in inspecting the watery broth.

"Looks fine to me." She remarked shortly.

"But it's Christmas! Surely we could have spared the children some actual slices of chicken..." Martha's voice died off at the incredulous look the matron was now sporting.

"You would have given each of the little terrors a cut of chicken all for themselves? Are you mad, girl? We don't _have_ a fat and plump bird like those fancy folk you see swaggering around the city – will you get that into your head! We can barely afford to keep some of the chicken for ourselves, even with chopping the rest of the carcass up for the brats."

Martha looked down ashamedly to the floor, wringing her hands together in embarrassment. The matron huffed.

"Now, the soup's ready and the vegetables have all been steamed. Give each plate a spoon of greens, two boiled potatoes, and a slice of bread. Then put a ladle of soup into each bowl." Mrs Cole instructed. "I'll go see where the other wretched girls have gone and send them down to you, or you'll be here forever."

Martha nodded weakly, and set away on the task; equal portions of broccoli and peas soon accumulated on the plates, and baby potatoes were heaped on besides them. Mrs Cole left the kitchen, taking care to shut the door behind her, and then went about scouring the orphanage for the other helpers. Her polished black heels clicked as she strode down the halls, a familiar warning siren for the orphans that resided there.

A boy absently left his room and walked out right in front of her, causing her to almost trip as she abruptly stopped herself from colliding with him.

"Watch where you're going, boy." She clipped, scowling down at the dark-haired youth. The boy met her eyes and glared back at her.

"Sorry." He retorted, sarcasm and insincerity dripping from his tone.

Riddle.

She sneered, eyeing the miscreant like a bug she'd love to squish beneath her shiny shoes. Riddle smiled coolly in return, dark grey eyes sizing her up and promptly dismissing her. She squared her sharp shoulders and loomed over the boy, piercing eyes boring down on him through thin brown frames.

"Back to your room, Riddle. There's no reason why someone like _you_ should be out today."

Tom's glare turned frosty and the boy bristled slightly at the implication lacing her words; Mrs Cole's scrutinising gaze caught it and she smirked.

"I have to go the bathroom. That's all."

Riddle was lying, she was certain. The boy was always involved in some wicked deed or plot, and she'd bet her Christmas dinner that the boy was up to no good, like every other day.

"Really? Then off you go." Her shark-like grin didn't seem to unnerve Riddle, but she relished the look of caution he threw behind him as he stiffly walked away from her down the corridor. She followed with an equal pace behind him, anger rising when she glimpsed a scowl on his face. So he had been planning to do something nefarious then! At least her beautifully roasted chicken dinner was safe tonight.

The boy stormily trudged into the bathroom. The matron waited outside, and a few minutes later Riddle appeared again, frowning when he saw that she was still there.

"Haven't you got anything better to do?" He sneered, challenging her with disdain leaking into his voice. The matron smarted at this blatant show of disrespect and she showed off a sneer in turn.

"Watch your tongue, child, or I'll wash your mouth out with soap."

Riddle glowered at her, before turning on heel and striding back down the corridor. Mrs Cole followed behind him until he reached his room, the door slamming shut. She smiled, happy that the boy wouldn't find a way to make anymore trouble, and then strode back down the hall, intent on finding those blasted girls.

* * *

 _:Where's my blanket, boy.:_ Nagini hissed, her head poking out under the mound of a scrunched-up blanket in the corner of his bed. Tom scowled.

 _:The stupid hag was following me. I couldn't get to the laundry room.:_

Nagini snorted and buried herself back into the mound. Her muffled hisses rang back out to Tom.

 _:Well, you're not getting your blanket back. You'll just have to go without.:_

Tom loured in indignation at her.

 _:It's freezing, you idiotic snake! We're going to have to share.:_

 _:But there won't be enough room for both of us!:_ She complained, uncaring that she sounded like a whiny hatchling. This was her blanket, dammit!

Tom didn't pay attention to her exclamations. He sat beside her on the bed and pulled part of the blanket out from underneath her coils and over himself, annoyed when the material wouldn't stretch to meet his toes. Nagini hissed but made no move to stop him. They sat there in silence for a few minutes, each equally unhappy with how the day was turning out.

Finally, Tom asked a question that had been bothering him lately.

 _:You said that I would be going to the wizarding school. But how will I know when and where to go?:_

 _:How should I know? I'm a snake.:_ Nagini replied as if that would explain everything. _:And you'll go when you have reached a certain age.:_

 _:How old will I need to be?:_

 _:I don't know! Serpents have no need for those silly numbers you wizards confuse yourselves with.:_

Tom sighed and wriggled under the blanket in an attempt to generate some more heat.

 _:I'll be eleven in a few days.:_ He whispered quietly, as if talking to himself but Nagini reasoned that he must have wanted a reply if he used the serpent's noble language.

 _:Congratulations.:_ She remarked dryly. The speaker refrained from glaring at her, all too used to her blunt and unforgiving tongue.

 _:You should buy me a present.:_ He blurted out suddenly, fixing Nagini with a determined stare.

 _:Why would I do that, boy?:_ She countered, giving the boy an odd look. The speaker fidgeted and his cheeks pinked marginally.

 _:It's what people do. For other people's birthdays.:_

 _:And for Yule.:_ Nagini added. _:But you didn't buy me anything today, so why should I get you something?:_

Tom acknowledged the reference to the wizarding holiday. Nagini had been teaching him some wizarding customs over the last month – he had been eager to learn as much as he could about the wizarding world as soon as she had explained what 'Hogwash' was.

 _:Fine. Forget about it.:_ Tom huffed, and turned on his back so that he was facing away from Nagini, happy to sacrifice a few centimetres of blanket if it meant that the snake wouldn't gloat at his soured face.

The tension stewed for a beat longer, before Nagini decided to speak up about something that had been nagging her.

 _:Why did those children come to our door this morning, speaker? I thought they no longer bothered you.:_ Nagini had been rudely awoken at dawn when a group of rambunctious and chittering humans had knocked on their door and demanded entrance, before Tom got up and saw them off.

 _:They wanted to make use of my window. I'm one of the only children who have one, see.:_ He added the last part in a smug tone.

 _:Why would they want that?:_ Nagini asked, baffled by his answer. Tom turned back around to face her, apparently over his little bitter spell.

 _:They wanted to see if it was snowing.:_ Tom snorted at this. _:I don't know why they bother. London's always been wet, cold, and raining. I suppose they were hoping for a 'Christmas miracle' or some rubbish.:_

 _:So... it didn't snow, then?:_ Nagini asked, unsure if Tom had already said.

 _:No. It never does.:_ Tom stared at the mottled ceiling. _:Christmas is always a waste of time.:_

 _:Good.:_ She retorted. _:It's too cold when it snows.:_

 _:It's too cold now, Nagini.:_ Tom pointed out.

Nagini didn't bother with replying and instead settled for shifting her head so it lay across the speaker's chest, and serpentine coils wrapped around his waist.

 _:Nagini! Get off!:_ The boy hissed, scrambling to push her off with his hands.

 _:Hmmm...no. You're warm.:_ She answered contently, snuggling into the warmth emanating from his thin frame.

 _:You stupid snake! You're crushing me with your fat, heavy, and enormous bulk–:_

Nagini tuned him out at this point, and tightened her grip around her personal hot-water bottle. Said water bottle yelped at this and the fingers dragging across her scales became more frenzied. A small sigh escaped her, and she slowly began to drop off into a drowsy sleep.

A violent hiss involuntarily left her lungs as the speaker walloped her on the head.

 _:Get off! Nagini, I swear to God–:_

Nagini hissed as her head was smacked again by the boy.

 _: – so move before I do something you'll regret –:_

As Nagini was bashed again by the rude speaker she relented and loosened her hold around the boy, and sulkily slipped back to her side of the bed. It was too cold.

 _:Finally! How many times have I told you not to –:_

Nagini missed her hot-water bottle.

 _: – already sharing my blanket with you –:_

She was hungry as well. Maybe the speaker would summon her a rabbit?

 _: – lucky I'm a generous host. Any other snake would –:_

Hmm. He hadn't wanted to get her any rabbits lately. Said it was too exhausting. Perhaps he'd get her one as a gift for Yule.

 _: - are you even listening to me?:_

But then she might be obliged to get him something in return. And a birthday gift. What did the speaker like anyway? Nothing. He was a miserable and hopeless boy. She sighed. She'd have to go without that rabbit, then.

 _:Oh stop stropping, Nagini. I'll get you a rabbit.:_

How did he know what she was thinking? Wait – rabbit?

 _:You're too easy to read. It was an easy guess.:_

The boy was a genius!

...Did he just insult her?

The boy smiled, and sat upright, the blanket falling off him as his legs dangled from the side of the bed. Nagini reared up to watch as the boy screwed his eyes shut and began muttering.

" **Coniarcesso**. **Coniarcesso**. **Coniarcesso**."

A rabbit suddenly popped into existence and the speaker quirked a smile.

 _:It's getting easier to do now, but it's still incredibly tiring. You better appreciate this, snake.:_

Nagini nodded distractedly; her focus pin-pointed on the hopping bundle of fur. Tom leaned back on the bed, reclaiming the entirety of the blanket as Nagini slithered off and lurched after the rabbit. He grimaced as she struck, her body quickly coalescing around her prey's struggling form. The scene was eerily similar to the dream he had had a month ago. It was a hard to stomach.

He swallowed a modicum of bile that rose up his throat.

He hadn't had any other nightmares since that first one. In the days following he had had a few sleepless nights before he was able to overcome the insomnia, putting it down as a one-off thing; a result of the stress and anger he felt when Nagini left him. Still – Nagini's loosened jaw and swallowing of the rabbit did not make a pleasant watching. He turned away, no longer captivated by the sight like he had been when Nagini devoured the first rabbit he'd ever summoned a little more than a month ago. There was no more morbid fascination.

A bell rang out across the orphanage, breaking him from his train of thought.

 _:I have to go now, Nagini. It's time to see what revolting slop they're calling a Christmas dinner this year.:_ He winced, then a mischievous grin stretched across his cheeks _. :In the meantime, you can think on what presents you're going to get me in return for that rabbit.:_

Nagini's stifled growling sent him into happier spirits as he left the peeved snake on the floor, her head spinning with curses against his character.


	7. Fascinators, Freaks, and Fiends

**spells**

 _:parseltongue:_

* * *

 _:Why is it –:_ Tom adjusted his scarf _: –that even with you shrunken down, you still manage to be an insufferable pain in the ass?:_

An elegant triangular head poked out from between the folds of his scarf. _:I don't know what you mean.:_

Tom scoffed. _:Sure you don't. Now would you mind not constricting my neck so much! I'm not one of your bloody rabbits.:_

An odd look from a passer-by caused Tom to shift the woollen material again, drawing the scarf up to cover his mouth and jolting Nagini.

 _:Stop moving me so much.:_

 _:Well then stop tightening around my neck all the time. There's only so much abuse my airway can take.:_

Nagini hissed, neither agreeing or disagreeing.

 _:I can't see from here.:_ She curled up around Tom's ear, his dark locks barely hiding her gleaming scales.

 _:Stupid snake.:_ He reprimanded, but made no move to hide her back under the scarf. He had shrunk Nagini down not so much as to hide her – they certainly didn't care for the image they presented – but rather for ease of mobility. No matter how many times Nagini denied it, she was irrefutably too heavy and too long for Tom to carry without the assistance of a shrinking charm.

He'd only just mastered how to cast one recently, as well. Turns out it was difficult wielding magic that he didn't know the words for or lacked the malicious desire to see executed. He was, of course, referring to the magic he could perform; the rabbit-summoning charm and the curses he had previously perfected. Luckily for them both, Tom had just added shrinking charms to his slowly increasing arsenal.

Tom was getting a few odd looks from other pedestrians for wearing a scarf in the middle of summer, but they were few and far between. Even in the early days of June, English weather didn't move beyond it's default wet and windy. A gust of wind picked up at that moment and proved his point, and Tom clutched his coat closer to his chest.

 _:Speaker, I demand that you tell me where we are.:_

 _:I'd be happy to oblige, my dear, but I haven't the faintest.:_

Nagini bristled under the endearment and the mocking tone she'd heard alongside it. She peeked out under the boy's fringe and studied the surroundings with a closer eye. There were lots of grey buildings. She told the boy that.

 _:That's not exactly helpful, Nagini.:_

 _:It's not my fault. I was hoping that you would be able to glean something from that observation seeing as you've lived in this city your whole life.:_

Tom scowled under that reminder.

 _:It's not like I had a choice in the matter.:_ He muttered. _:Anyway. The whole point of this expedition is that we visit somewhere we haven't been before. And we're not doing that if I recognise the area, Nagini.:_

Nagini hummed. _:I'm just saying...:_

Tom sighed. _:Shut up. You did say you'd help me with this. Do you remember what you're supposed to be looking for?:_

Nagini tightened her hold around the speaker's neck in warning, satisfied when he gave a small choke. _:I'm the one who told you what to look for in the first place, boy. Remember that.:_

Tom's fingers prised Nagini's tail off his neck and he unwound her body from where it was uncomfortably pressing into his throat.

 _:I swear that you're more trouble than you're worth. Was that show of intimidation meant to scare me?:_ Tom teased.

 _:I take it that it didn't work?:_

 _:Not in the slightest.:_ Tom grinned, affectionately knocking his head into hers. Nagini hissed back out of principle.

 _:But you've probably left a few curious bruises around my throat. I'd love to see Martha try to explain those.:_

 _:I don't know why you humans don't have scales. Your skin is just too...fleshy.: Nagini_ grazed her fangs against his neck to prove the point.

 _:Careful there, Nagini. I still haven't forgiven you for biting me the first time.:_

Nagini's bite from that first meeting in the orphanage's excuse for a garden had healed over time into two little scars, only a few millimetres across. Of course, the speaker was apparently not over it yet.

 _:You deserved it. What sane person would stuff a deadly snake up their shirt anyway?:_

Tom chuckled. _:You're not that lethal, Nagini.:_

 _:I am.:_ She said boldly.

 _:Rabbits don't count.:_

 _:I've killed men before, too.:_ She added, remembering her days from when she'd kill on the command of her master.

 _:I'll believe it when I see it, snake.:_

 _:Would you care for a demonstration?:_ She replied, leaning in front of his face and bearing her fangs.

 _:Put those away. Now let's get back to the work at hand. Remember: funny hats, dresses, sticks –:_

 _: – long beards and randomly appearing. I know.:_

 _:Good.:_ Tom replied, unfazed by Nagini's snappy tone. They continued down the high street, Tom scrutinising every odd-looking person for signs of magic and Nagini bobbing in and out of Tom's hair to do the same, making Tom look like a bastardised Medusa. Eventually Tom decided that it would be easier for him (and his feet) to sit down on one of the benches and observe people from there.

From that spot on the cast-iron bench, Tom and Nagini evaluated every abnormal detail that passed them by, occasionally getting up to follow particular people before returning to the bench when their hunch didn't pan out. They were very certain that they had found some witches when a group of women with odd hair accessories stumbled past, but after overhearing some of their sickening conversation it became apparent that they were on their way to a wedding.

All in all, it was a very tiring affair for all parties involved, with Nagini grumbling about Tom's incompetence at spotting anything wizardesque and Tom sending back scathing remarks in rebuttal.

 _:Let's go back now, speaker. I am very tired_.: Nagini finally hissed out, her muscles cramping from holding her position so long and from being shrunken down so drastically.

 _:No.:_ Tom replied irritably. _:You haven't been doing anything other than using me as a pillow. We'll go when I say we're done.:_

Nagini hissed and burrowed her head back into Tom's scarf. _:If you don't think I'm doing anything then I will go to sleep.:_

 _:Fine.:_ snapped Tom, the constant need to be alert making him cranky. As Nagini dozed off he continued to inspect and mentally dissect every person that passed, even when the crowds of shoppers began to thin and dwindle down in number. It was only when the sun started to set and the sky burned pink and purple that Tom conceded that it was time to head back. He grudgingly got up and headed in the direction of the orphanage, angry at himself for the unsuccessful expedition.

He walked back slowly, not at all eager to return back to that excuse for a home and secretly hoping that he could spot something magical on the way back. Unfortunately for Tom's deteriorating control on his temper, he didn't see anything and so it was a very snarky and crabby Tom that knocked on the locked doors of Wool's Orphanage. The door clicked open and a thin but surprisingly strong hand gripped his arm and pulled him through the door.

"What time do you call this, Riddle? I ought to leave you outside to freeze." The matron spat at him, her face reddening in outrage. Tom scowled and glared at Mrs Cole.

"Get your hands off me." He demanded, a vicious tone colouring his words. The matron only clamped her knobbly fingers more fiercely around his upper arm, and Tom felt sure that it would bruise. Before either of them had a chance to derail the situation further, Martha strode into the entrance hall and called out to the matron.

"Mrs Cole, Eric Whalley's getting worse and I can't find any iodine..." She trailed off upon seeing the compromising position the matron and Tom were in. Her eyes flitted between the two, and she bit her lip – clearly wanting to say something but equally not wanting to risk Mrs Cole's ire. The matron in question finally released Tom's arm, and he snatched it back to his chest and rubbed it for an added effect.

"Will...err...can you –" began Martha, still visibly uncomfortable.

"Just follow me." Mrs Cole silenced Martha, walked away from Tom and beckoned Martha to come with her. She threw Tom a steely glare before she left, however, and Tom was lucid enough to realise that he had gotten lucky; he had completely forgotten about the sleeping snake hiding under his scarf. Nagini had not remained hidden for this long without Tom severely controlling his temper so as not to arise further suspicion.

Taking the boon for what it was, he stalked back to his room and shut the door, collapsing to the floor as soon as he had done so. The exhausting day was finally catching up to him, and he managed to crawl back up onto his bed before he blacked out completely.

* * *

Tom's unnaturally long and pale fingers caressed his wand, running down the length of the thin yew wood. His followers watched with a bated breath as he deliberately pointed it in their direction, and a pleasurable thrill ran up his spine as they tensed. He chuckled, a high warble that seemed to only further terrify them.

"My...friends. It has been a long thirteen years, hasn't it?" He quietly whispered. The cloaked figures kneeling before him hesitated, and then cautiously nodded in agreement. Tom smiled, but it was not genuine – it was a toothy smile that displayed rows of sharp teeth and stretched sideways along his jaw.

"The boy has fled from us again. Avery, would you say it was due to any incompetence on my part?"

A figure to his right threw himself flat on the ground, almost kissing the dirty marble floor. "My master, my Lord...it was a lucky escape for the boy! You are too magnificent –" He cried before Tom's gentle shushing cut him off. Avery remained flat in the floor, completely still, aside from the slight trembling of his shoulders.

Tom turned his gaze to another. "And you, Lucius?" he hissed, drawing out the sibilance in his follower's name. A bowed follower in the middle lifted his head up, white-blond hair surrounding a bone white mask like a halo. A silky but wary voice drifted from it's depths.

"It is as Avery said, my Lord. The boy only escaped due to foolish luck."

Tom leaned forward on his dark throne. "Do you think yourself completely innocent, Lucius?" he hissed lazily, eyeing with glee as the usually stoic man flinched.

"Of course not, my Lord. I...and others should have apprehended the boy –"

"Exactly." Tom drawled, now twirling his wand between his fingers. "And what punishment do you propose I mete?"

The blond audibly gulped. "My Lord..." he left the title hanging, question hidden in his words. Tom's eyes narrowed.

"Careful, Lucius." The wand had stopped spinning, and was now innocently pointing at the terrified follower. "One might think that you are...unsatisfied with your Lord."

"No, my Lord!" Lucius prostrated himself in a similar manner to Avery, white hair weeping across the marble. "I beg you forgiveness. I mean no disrespect –"

" **Crucio**." Tom intoned, watching avidly as a pulsing red light spun out the end of his wand and met Lucius head-on. The blond convulsed and shook under the onslaught, a low moan of pain freeing itself from clenched lips. Tom leant back in his seat and observed the display with waning interest, eyes flicking over the rest of his followers. Half looked as if they wanted nothing more than to run and never look back, while the others...Well. They had been his followers for a _reason_.

When the show stopped and Lucius lay shivering on the floor, all dignity well and truly broken, Tom addressed his followers once more.

"Let us begin with the reports. I will most displeased if unpleasant rumour.."

* * *

Tom woke up in a sweat, gasping for breath. His hands gripped his sheets tightly, and he tried to steady himself as long breaths rattled out of his heaving chest. His legs were violently trembling and rapid shakes shot up his arms and froze his spine.

 _:Nagini.:_ He pleaded.

 _:Speaker?:_ came her careful voice from the floor. He looked down and saw a full-sized Nagini uncurling herself and eyeing him with concern. His shrinking charm must have worn off.

 _:Could you...please...:_ Tom didn't know what he wanted to say, didn't know what he needed, just knew that something was desperately _wrong_.

 _What had been that dream?_

Nagini clearly didn't know what to do, either, but she straightened herself up and dealt out instructions with an authoritative tone, while Tom could only listen dumbly.

 _:First, you will put some day-clothes on. Then you will calm down and gather your thoughts. I will go and get a rabbit from the garden because I am hungry, and when I come back you will tell me what's wrong.:_

Tom watched as she slithered out his window, barely noticing as she curved around a drainpipe and slowly made her way to the ground instead of just falling down. He nodded to himself and pushed up off the bed and monotonously completed her instructions, and then sat on the bed once more. He stared out the window, noting that the sun was already a good way through it's journey. It looked to be around noon.

Who had been those people? Who was the boy they were talking about, who was the lord?

"I was." Tom mumbled to himself, a hand grabbing at the cloth of his shirt by his heart. "I was their lord."

Why had he imagined himself in such a way? The hands – they were monstrous, pale and freakishly long; as if there was an extra knuckle in his fingers. Tom couldn't have been that man – that monster, it must not be real...

Tom stilled. What if this was like the dream he had all that time ago? Tom had had a few dreams since the first, but nowhere near as dramatic – he could never remember them properly come morning, only knowing that they had occurred. The _feel_ and _realness_ of this dream he had just had was too similar to the one with the rabbit for him to ignore. What was he in his dreams? Some sort of predator?

Two knocks startled him from his thoughts and his door swung open, and a flushed Mrs Cole entered his room.

"Tom? You've got a visitor."


	8. Close Encounters of the Wizard Kind

_:parseltongue:_

* * *

"This is Mr Dumberton – sorry, Dunderbore. He's come to tell you – well, I'll let him do it."

A blotch of toxic purple stung at the corner of Tom's eye as a man entered his room, wearing what appeared to be a velvet suit. His eyes widened slightly but he kept his gaze stubbornly fixated out the window as the matron somewhat clumsily trotted back out into the hall, closing the door behind her.

Two blackbirds danced and twirled against a cloudy backdrop, and Tom's grey irises flittered and followed them across the sky, paying no outward attention to the exuberant man patiently waiting for him, even though thoughts and theories were buzzing through his mind like a million frenzied bees.

No one ever came to visit Tom – this man must have requested him by name for Mrs Cole to show the stranger to his room, for Tom certainly wasn't her first choice of orphan for prospective parents. But, from what Tom could make out of the man as he subtly peeked at the fellow, he was either mad or blind. Or a wizard.

Now thinking on it, how could this man not be? He perfectly fit all of Nagini's observations – well, nearly all. He certainly matched the 'odd clothing' and 'long beard' descriptives to a tee, but didn't seem to be holding a stick of any sort – which Tom was now suspected was what Nagini meant as a wand. But then again, it would be a tad weird to carry a stick around publically. Not that this eccentric stranger appeared to care about his appearance, however. Tom discreetly looked him up and down. Tom hoped that he wouldn't be forced to wear such unfashionable plum colours if he did join the community of wizards.

"Ah, Tom, I've been meaning to speak with you today." A pleasant voice broke him from his thoughts, all kind and warm as if Tom hadn't been ignoring the man. He relented and shifted his body so that he was facing the wizard, finally able to make a more accurate observation than the one he gleaned from the corner of his eye.

A closer inspection of the man's clothing didn't make them any less strange, however; the deep purple clashed horribly with the wizard's long auburn beard. Though the man was smiling at him, a hand now extending out from one of the heavy sleeves, there were no crinkles around the eyes to authenticate his jovial behaviour and the clear blue eyes were sharp and searching. This wasn't someone Tom could mess with.

Tom eyed the outstretched hand with caution, but showed no hesitation as he reached for it and clasped his smaller hand with the wizard's. Tom desperately hoped that the man couldn't feel how clammy his hand was from earlier, when he'd woken up from that horrible nightmare... No, best not to think about that now.

"How do you do?" The man loosened his firm grip from Tom's hand and pulled a wooden chair closer to the bed, before sitting down on it and waiting in silence for him to reply. Tom made no move to protest the wizard's blasé actions about reworking his bedroom's interior without his permission, knowing when to pick his battles. This man was an unknown threat, and Tom decided to treat him as such.

"I'm fine, sir. And you?"

A slight smile briefly flashed beneath the bush of the wizard's beard, before vanishing.

"I am quite well."

They sat in silence for a few uneasy moments – well, at least they were on Tom's part as the man gave no indication on starting a conversation. At the very least, it allowed Tom to recollect his thoughts before carefully beginning any correspondence.

"Sir, how do you know who I am?"

The man smiled again, and Tom found that he didn't like that smile; it was if the wizard had expected Tom to ask that and was pleased by it. Tom grew more wary of the man by the second.

"It would only be appropriate of me to answer that question by first giving some context behind it, Tom. You see, I am a professor at Hogwarts, a school of magic." The man paused and gazed keenly at Tom, who belatedly realised that he needed to look surprised, and then preceded to do an impression of just that. The crisp blue eyes never wavered, and Tom hoped that he had fooled the wizard on his apparent ignorance of the magical world.

"Magic? You must be mistaken. Magic isn't real." But it was and it was the best thing to ever happen to him. But Mr Dumberton – or whatever his name was – didn't need to know that. A school? That must be the one Nagini had spoken of, though apparently it was 'Hogwarts' and not 'Hogwash'. Stupid snake.

"Oh, but it is, my boy. Have you ever been able to do something, something extraordinary when you were angry, or scared? Something you couldn't explain because you thought it was impossible?" The man was even more fiercely watching Tom, and Tom felt almost naked under such intense scrutiny. He refused to drop his eyes away from the man.

"Sometimes..." He tested slowly, waiting for any slight reaction from the man to act upon. "Things have happened that I thought I must have dreamt, as they were so implausible. Are you saying that it was magic?"

The man nodded. "Have you done anything in particular, Tom? Have you ever done anything, say, to the other children?"

How did he know? Tom hadn't used his magic on the other children in ages, and this man had said that he was a professor, not a police officer. Wait a second... That rotten old hag! What had she been saying about him? Tom fought to keep his face neutral as righteous anger bubbled underneath, indignation and outrage brewing at the thought of the matron eagerly prattling off a list of offences Tom had committed. How dare she? Badmouthing him to a representative of his future school...

Tom realised that he needed to reply. "Nothing on purpose, sir..." Tom made his voice go higher and trail off as one of the professor's eyebrows rose. "It was a accident, I swear! They were hitting me and the next second..." Tom quietened. "Well, then they weren't." He finished, hoping that the man would write off Mrs Cole's allegations as self defence. He certainly didn't want to make a bad impression on the wizard.

The man smiled, and placed a hand on Tom's knee. Tom refrained from recoiling. "Now, that's quite alright, Tom. On to other matters; as Deputy Head at Hogwarts, I have come to offer you a place at the school, should you wish to attend."

Tom had to stop himself from frantically gushing out his confirmation, and instead simply nodded. "I think I would like that very much, sir."

The wizard nodded, blue eyes twinkling. Then, his expression shifted quite suddenly and a frown carved across wrinkled cheeks, and the twinkle vanished from his eyes. Tom took all this in with growing panic, wondering what the wizard had just discovered to make him so stern and serious.

"At Hogwarts, Tom, we will teach you how to control magic – not just use it. I fear that you have allowed your magic to run away with you, and have used it for nefarious purposes that are not tolerated at Hogwarts." The wizard continued on, ignoring Tom's reddening face. "If you continue with your recent behaviours at the school...no matter how inadvertent they may be, then Hogwarts will have no choice but to expel you. Indeed, I must caution you for the future, as the Ministry of Magic punishes lawbreakers even more severely. I tell you this only out of concern, my boy, and ask that you obey the laws of the world you wish to enter, lest you meet the repercussions."

Tom's eyes were drilling holes into his trousers, sane enough to know that it wouldn't be wise to invoke more cause for 'concern' from the man. As such, he hid his ire behind tight lips and a stony, blank expression. This professor was getting entirely too comfortable with Tom, and he internally bristled at the idea of the man nosing through his past. He had no right nor proof to accuse Tom of anything, other than that woman's nasty rumours.

He raised his head and turned his grey eyes onto the visitor. "I understand, sir."

The man gave a slight smile once again, before reaching a hand inside the suit jacket and drawing out a plump leather pouch. Tom followed it with thinly veiled interest.

"This your allowance from Hogwarts to buy your school books and robes, as you have no such funds yourself." Tom scowled at the reminder, but the wizard continued on, oblivious to Tom's irritation. "You may have to visit the second-hand shops to get your supplies as the money may not be sufficient to buy everything brand new."

Tom nodded, already deciding to splurge on his clothes and buy the books and other necessities at a cheaper price. It wasn't that Tom didn't care for spellbooks – quite the opposite, in fact – it was just that he wanted to make a good impression on his classmates, 'clothes make the man', afterall.

"Where are these shops?" He enquired, reaching over for the pouch. The professor dropped the money-sack into Tom's waiting hand without a word. Tom immediately pulled on the string fastenings and picked out a round and fat gold coin from it's depths. He held it up to the light, the engraved words of 'ONE GALLEON' glinting.

"In Diagon Alley," the wizard replied, sharp eyes not missing the greedy glint in Tom's grey irises as the galleon was set aside in favour of examining some sickles. "I have your list of books and school equipment with me. I can help you find everything –"

"Oh, don't worry about that, sir. I'm quite used to going into London on my own. I don't need any help." Tom had turned his attention away from the money and back onto the wizard, giving the older man what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "Could you tell me where Diagon Alley is?"

The wizard frowned, but made no effort to protest Tom's demands. "Very well, then." The wizard then proceeded to hand Tom his official Hogwarts letter and equipment list, before describing the route to Diagon Alley from the orphanage. Tom looked on attentively and nodded in all the right places, absorbing the new information into his brain. The professor had just started describing the pub that Tom apparently had to enter, but Tom never found out what he had to do once he was in there, because as that very moment Nagini had returned.

Everything seemed to happen at once. One second, the wizard was describing 'The Leaky Cauldron' and the next he had gone very still, slowly standing up and drawing a long stick from the inside of his jacket. Tom quickly determined this to be a wand(!) and snapped his head back behind him, following the direction of it's point. Nagini was half in the room, and half still out the window, her black eyes fixed on the professor.

Then Nagini was flying across the room towards the wizard, fangs bared and set in a lethal aim. The wizard cast his wand in an arc and sent Nagini flying against the wall mid-flight, falling on the floor with a crash. Tom bolted up from the bed, scrambling over to the hissing snake and glaring up at the professor from where he was kneeling on the floor.

"Step away from the snake, Tom." The wizard commanded, wand still pointed at the serpent who was now gathering herself up for another strike. Tom shook his head fiercely, making sure that his body blocked the wizard from taking aim at Nagini. The twinkle was well and truly gone from the wizard's eyes.

Nagini hissed angrily from behind Tom, but Tom didn't dare turn around and demand answers from her – not at all trusting the man not to strike when his back was turned. The wizard lowered his wand slightly, a sense of understanding passing over his face.

"Is this your snake, Tom?" The wizard asked gently, and Tom once again shook his head firmly. The wizard raised an eyebrow, and Tom felt quite stupid.

"I mean, she isn't _mine_. She's just a friend" He rushed out, anxious to protect Nagini from the wizard. Who knows what he would do to her?

"A friend." The professor repeated, eyeing Tom with suspicion. Tom nodded, maybe a little too eagerly. The wizard glanced at the snake, mentally connecting the dots.

"And...can you speak to this friend, Tom? Can you talk to her, and her back to you?"

Tom instantly knew that he should not tell the truth. The wizard looked too uneasy, too wary, and Tom knew he'd have to do something major to repair the damage done. Unfortunately, all he could do now was lie through his teeth and hope for the best.

"No. Is that something wizards can do?"

The professor grimaced. "No...it is rare talent. A special talent."

Hah! The wizard was trying to bait him into giving away his secret. Tom was even more determined not to reveal anything. "Oh. That's a shame, then. I suppose it would be quite useful."

"Quite." The wizard said shortly, sticking the wand back inside the suit as Nagini was now just quietly observing the confrontation. The wizard sighed.

"You'll do well not to bring that snake to Hogwarts, Tom. You'll find the list of approved pets on your equipment list."

Tom nodded, having no intention of following the instruction. He had relaxed his protective stance over Nagini, the wizard no longer a threat with the wand safely tucked away. Without so much as a goodbye, the wizard left the room as abruptly as he had entered.

Tom immediately rounded on Nagini.

 _:What was that for? Were you trying to get yourself killed?:_

Nagini bristled in indignation. _:I know that man.:_

 _:Oh?:_ Tom's interest was piqued.

 _:I recognised him from my master's descriptions. He is Dummy.:_

 _:Interesting...:_ Tom murmured, thoughts racing through his head.

 _:My master doesn't like Dummy.:_ Nagini elaborated, and Tom nodded.

 _:Yes. I had gathered that.:_

 _:I was only trying to help.:_ Nagini retorted. _:And don't even think about not taking me to Hogwarts.:_

 _:How did you know about that?:_ Tom asked in surprise. _:You don't know English.:_

 _:It's a stupid language!:_ Nagini exclaimed in protest. _:And I could just tell from the tone. You haven't answered me, boy.:_

 _:Well...:_ Tom teased, grinning at the snake.

Nagini hissed in outrage.

 _:Boy!:_


	9. A jaunt down Diagon Alley

_:This is it?:_ Tom sneered. _:I expected something better. Grander.:_

 _:Does it matter?:_ Nagini snapped, her body thrumming with anticipation and excitement. Tension streamed through her muscles, which were poised and barely restrained; all Nagini wanted to do was let loose and re-join the world she had been absent from for the past seven months. Unfortunately, the speaker was taking his sweet time about it.

Tom shot her a look. _:It should. We're better than muggles, and this should reflect that.:_

Nagini eyed the black, peeling paint and the faded looping white letters. While it certainly wasn't elegant and could definitely be described as 'shabby', Nagini didn't at all care. _:Perhaps. Now get inside!:_

Tom sighed, knowing that his point was lost on Nagini. He made sure her shrunken form was completely covered by his scarf, once again, before ducking into the pub, needing no further encouragement from the serpent. In truth, he was secretly as eager as her to enter the wizarding world, but was deliberately delaying for some reason unknown to him. Perhaps to savour the moment? Or maybe the idea of a world he had constructed in his head was about to meet it's reality, and Tom wasn't sure how what he had built up from Nagini's fragmented knowledge would compare to the real counterpart.

The Leaky Cauldron stank of beer and was bubbling with the merry voices of it's patrons, even though it was only just approaching two o'clock. A swarming mass of cloaks, robes, and hats sporting a ghastly array of colours pulsed in the dim light, flashing and waving as the crowd moved and sang as one. The floor was sticky under Tom's feet as pushed through the bustling mob in distaste, occasionally having to duck as a slosh of beer became freed of it's glass and made to hit him, as it's owner danced and stumbled around in an oblivious merry state. Were wizards always this rowdy? They were acting like muggles.

Finally, Tom made his way to the bar, and sank down into one of the stools, the cracked black leather deflating upon impact. Tom scowled, thoroughly irritated with how the day was progressing and the rambunctious behaviour of the singing wizards behind him. Well, that was his dream of a majestic and elite wizarding world shattered.

He wasn't even sure what he was supposed to do – the professor had been about to elaborate when Nagini had decided to make her entrance the day previous.

 _:Any idea what I'm supposed to do now?:_ He whispered into his scarf. He was met by a muffled reply.

 _:Do a funny dance.:_

 _:Hilarious.:_ Tom felt like banging his head on the stained wood lining the bar. He was stuck in a dingy bar with no clue where to go, drunk wizards singing and laughing, and Nagini was being no help at all. He scowled as a drunk wizard bowled into him, almost causing him to fall off his stool, before grabbing him around the shoulders to regain their balance.

"Sorry - _hic_ \- 'ave a good 'un, ya hear?" The drunk then stumbled back into the crowd, unaware of Tom's furious glare following after him. This was all pointless, the professor should have told him what to do instead of scampering off as soon as soon as he'd seen the snake. What was so bad about Nagini, anyway? The wizard had practically tried to kill her – throwing her against the wall and such.

Though Nagini hadn't been entirely innocent, too. She had, after all, tried to kill the professor –which Tom was quite annoyed about. What use was it for him to try and make a good impression when she's come along and ruin it? He'd later gleaned from the snake that the only reason she'd acted so impulsive and violently in the first place was because she recognised the man as 'Dummy', a name which Tom presumed to be an alteration of 'Dumberton' or something; he wasn't convinced that the matron had got it right and the professor had never introduced himself.

This 'Dummy' was apparently an enemy of Nagini's master, which in itself was a term that made Tom uneasy and frustrated. Tom didn't know whether the unfortunate nickname for the professor was one made up through Nagini's poor memory and butchered pronunciation or whether her master actually called the professor by the childish moniker. Tom, quite frankly, didn't know what to think.

"You came on a bad day."

The voice broke him from his thoughts and Tom's head whipped around to behind the bar, where a man was opening bottles of beer with his wand. The stubby brown stick was tapping caps which then pinged off into a bowl, accumulating into a growing pile. At Tom's blank look, the barman elaborated.

"Puddlemere United won their match quarter of an hour ago. Went on for a few days, too. Them lot are celebrating."

Tom nodded, having no idea what the man just said. The barman smiled.

"The name's Tom. Take it you want to be going into Diagon?"

Tom stiffly nodded, and followed the barman as he led him out of the pub and into a scruffy courtyard, clearing a path through the joyous wizards who were on the third verse of some drinking song. The man raised his wand to a dirtied brick wall, that looked as if it had fallen into ill-repair some while ago.

"Now watch closely. When you get yours, you'll be doing this yourself."

The barman then proceeded to tap a pattern onto the bricks, Tom following and committing the sequence to memory. With one last prod, the man stood back as the bricks grumbled and shifted out of the way, a gap in the wall forming and growing larger until the bricks finally settled into place.

The barman gave a knowing smile to Tom. "There you go."

But Tom didn't hear him. In fact, he would be surprised if he could hear anything right now, because his vision was completely captivated by the extraordinary and impossible sights that were currently taking all his brain-power to process. An involuntary gasp fell from his lips, and Nagini poked her head out from the folds of the knitwear to see what had startled the speaker. Soon, both speaker and serpent were looking on, dumbstruck, as numerous witches and wizards went about their everyday lives, not knowing what their mere existence signified to one young boy and one hopeful snake.

For Nagini, this restarted a long-held hope that she could find her master and be with him once again, sticking to the promise she had made herself. For Tom, Diagon Alley signified the start of his new life, a life in which he knew would be great and prosperous. A chuckling barman slipped back into the pub, never getting tired of the priceless expressions on muggleborn's faces when they saw Diagon Alley for the first time.

Finally, after what seemed like eons and a millisecond all at once, Tom broke out of his stupor and with an embarrassed huff he started to make his way down the street, neck craning to take in as many as the shop signs as he could. He absently reached into his pocket and patted the jingling pouch of coins given to him by the professor, and suppressed a desire to run into every shop he could see and buy as much as he could.

He stubbornly strode past countless book shops, apothecaries and an odd assortment of interesting stores that he was itching to enter, determined to stick to his original plan. After an agonising walk, he finally entered the shop of his choice; _Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions_. The door jingled as he stepped inside, although he could see no bell. Not long after, a smiling twenty-something girl stepped into view.

"Hogwarts?" She queried, dimples on show. Tom nodded and stepped onto the footstool she gestured to.

"I'm the owner of this place, it's a new business, you know. We've only been open a couple of months or so – just in time for the new school year!" Tom nodded politely as the girl babbled on, a measuring tape twirling and fastening itself around his arms and legs, conducted by flicks of the witch's wand.

"Hmmm. I'll be right back." The girl then disappeared into the back of the shop, leaving a quiet Tom to his own devices. Outside the shop's window, he could see people ambling down the cobbled street, some in families and some on their own. He observed all the teenagers and adolescent children with curiosity – these could be his future classmates. His mood soured slightly as he took in their obviously wizard robes and parents. Tom was determined to not let his muggle background hold him back.

 _:Stop frowning. Your face will stick like that and you'll be ugly forever.:_

Dark eyes shot down to watch Nagini, who was uncurling herself from around his neck. _:Oh, so you've finally decided to make an appearance then, have you?:_ he teased.

Nagini hissed and head-butted Tom's chin. _:I was thinking.:_

 _:Congratulations.:_ Tom uttered dryly.

 _:Shhhh, you silly boy. I have been an enormous help to you over the past…something… and I've decided how you can make it up to me.:_

Tom quirked an eyebrow. _:Oh really now?:_

 _:Yes.:_ Nagini confirmed. _:You can help me find my master.:_

Tom stilled. _:No.:_

Nagini's head shot up in indignation. _:What do you mean, 'no'?:_

 _:I mean that I won't be helping you. I don't see why you need your master anyway; you have me.:_ Tom replied, steadily growing in anger at the thought of Nagini leaving him. Hadn't he done so much for her? Giving her a place to live, rabbits on demand…how dare she?

Nagini bristled, her ire growing to the similar levels to that of the speaker's. _:You are not my master. You will help me, or I will leave right now.:_

 _:You wouldn't:_ Tom sneered.

 _:I would.:_ Nagini threatened. Tom faltered, hearing the conviction in Nagini's voice. Would she really? After all this time…but if she found her master she'd leave Tom anyway. A year ago, Tom would have immediately cut all ties with the snake and get it over and done with, cursing her name for leading him on. But Tom was different now, weaker perhaps – maybe stronger – and he didn't want Nagini to go. Not yet, anyway.

 _:Fine.:_ he said quietly, staring out the window and not facing the snake.

 _:Thank you.:_ hissed Nagini, who then promptly slithered back under the scarf as footsteps echoed back into the room and Madam Malkin returned.

"I hope it's no bother, but I thought that this material would really suit you. It's a _tad_ more price-y than the standard Hogwarts robes, but –"

"- thank you. They'll be perfect." Tom smoothly interrupted, eyeing the flowing black robes appreciatively.

The girl beamed. "Brilliant. Anything else, then?"

"I don't think so – wait, could I get some casual robes and wear them now?" Tom asked, deciding that if he was to make an impression on the wizarding community, then it had better be a good one. An orphan in scruffy cast-offs was not the impression he wanted to give.

"Sure. Any colour in particular takes your fancy?"

"Green. Dark green." Tom replied, and the girl bustled over to a nearby rack, sorting and sifting through some robes before she pulled out a nice set. Tom nodded his consent, and the witch muttered a spell, instantly switching Tom's clothes with the robe. The silk felt pleasantly cool against his skin, and Tom took a second to admire the feel of the material before returning his attention back to the girl.

"Okay, that'll be 22 galleons all together then. I've included the other required Hogwarts clothing in that, as well."

Tom bit his lip and pulled out the drawstring bag, before carefully counting out exactly 22 of the shiny golden coins. The bag had become drastically lighter. Madam Malkin scooped up the money and slipped it into a pocket in her robe, which Tom supposed had been magically adjusted somehow.

He said his goodbyes and left the shop, feeling a little disorientated now that he had cut well into his monetary supplies with the fine clothing and sleek green robe he was now wearing. Nevertheless, he strode down the alley with an unreadable expression, his eyes darting out to catch a glimpse of his next destination. Then, he saw it.

 _Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC_.

Finally, he would be getting a wand. He would at last be a proper wizard.

Taking a deep breath, he pushed the door open and entered the dusty shop, which was overcrowded by shelves upon shelves stuffed with thin rectangular boxes.

"I don't recognise you." A soft voice came out from behind one of the towering shelves, startling Tom slightly – not that he would admit it.

"You don't?" Tom repeated, disappointed, the man dashing his hopes that Tom had some relation to a wizarding family; an orphan who was in fact not a mudblood, but a member of a prestigious wizarding family. Nagini had explained such terms to him, and stated that Tom couldn't be a mudblood because he spoke the 'noble language', and as her master could speak parseltongue and wasn't a mudblood, therefore Tom mustn't be also. Tom didn't point out the faults in her logic at the time, and an anxiety soon grew from that conversation – what if he _was_ a mudblood?

The man didn't answer him, but instead ethereal silver eyes trailed over his figure and Tom fought not to squirm. Suddenly, Ollivander's hand shot forward and pulled off Tom's scarf in a sharp move, Tom's protests drying up on his lips as the wandmaker stared solemnly at the snake. Tom risked locking eyes with the man and was surprised to see not fear, but curiosity.

"You'd do well to keep that hidden at Hogwarts." Ollivander finally said, and Tom could do nothing but nod dumbly.

"Well!" The man clapped his hands together, dispelling the tension and startling Nagini who had been drifting in light sleep. "Let's get you a wand!"

The man scooted back among the shelves, plucking out seemingly random boxes and piling them up in his arms. Nagini blearily raised her head.

 _:What was that about?:_ came her slurred voice.

Tom refused to answer, not wanting to reveal another secret to the strange man. Nagini hissed and dropped back off to sleep.

The man came back over and deposited the boxes onto a table, before prising one of them open and pulling out a fat, dark wand. "Try this one. Birch, 10 ½ inches, unicorn hair."

Tom accepted the wand and, after prompting, gave it a sharp flick. A chair caught on fire.

"Oh no, not that one at all. I think unicorn hair is not for you." The man gave Tom an indiscernible look, before waving a hand and the fire flickered out. Ollivander then turned back to the pile and muttered to himself, rummaging through until he brought out another one.

"Ash, 14 inches, dragon heart-string." He simply stated, thrusting the wand into Tom's open hand, and three seconds later a light bulb exploded. Tom winced, but Ollivander merely laughed. The cycle repeated again with increasing amounts of discarded wands and opened boxes, before Ollivander handed over a thin, white wand, a speculative look on his face. This time, he said nothing.

Tom received the wand, already knowing that something was different, and the instant the bone-white wood touched his skin he felt a jolt of electricity spark down his spine, and green sparks erupted from the tip of his wand.

"This is it. This is my wand." He said breathlessly, in awe of the perfect companion to his magic – it had filled a hole he didn't know existed.

"Yew. 13 ½ inches, Phoenix feather. A powerful wand…" Ollivander mused, staring at the wand in Tom's hand with burning intensity.

"Yes?" Tom implored, greedily absorbing and seeking new information, but the wandmaker shook his head.

"That will be seven galleons."

Tom quickly dug out his pouch and handed over the correct amount of change with much more enthusiasm than he had had for the robes, and Ollivander accepted it all without a word.

The rest of the day passed quickly, and with considerably less excitement. Due to Tom's excessive spending in Madam Malkins', he had to buy all his potion supplies and spellbooks second-hand, something he was quite irked about. He decided that as soon as he came into more wealth he would immediately replace them higher quality equivalents, not wanting to become behind on his magical education or become a source of ridicule for his classmates.

It was with a heavy heart that he finally returned to the orphanage, the high and excitement of the day crashing down as he realised that it was still a good month and a half more before he could leave this hellhole, and go to Hogwarts.


	10. We're off to see the wizard!

_:parseltongue:_

* * *

Red bricks flashed past and a high-pitched whistle shrilled in the distance. He pushed through a sea of monochrome coats, ignoring the exclamations, feet scrabbling on the floor for a hold as he was swept up by the crowd. He fought harder, shouldering past businessmen and workers alike, his heavy trunk battering his legs as he ran.

"Watch it!"

Tom ignored the shouts following him, and he continued to dart through the mob of commuters lining the platform. Where was the bloody train? Where was platform 9¾? He was roughly shoved to the side as he collided with another passenger.

"Get out of here!"

Tom picked himself back up off the floor, right hand stretching out and grabbing his trunk's handle, and hurtled down the platform again, reading the signs speeding past above him... _Platform Nine...Platform Ten..._ where is it? He pulled to a stop and thrust his hand into his coat pocket, drawing out a crumpled letter. He frantically read it, making sure he had made no mistake. He hadn't.

"All aboard!"

A conductor shouted in the distance, and a train on his platform slowly trudged to life. A sharp whistle erupted in the air again, cutting through the mutterings and noise of the crowd. Tom stared at a clock on the wall, the minute hand gradually creeping towards twelve, the hour hand practically hugging eleven. Tom swore. This wasn't happening. He'd just entered the world of magic; he wasn't about to leave it.

 _:Nagini!:_ He whispered hurriedly into his scarf. _:Help me!:_

 _:I thought you told me to not come out?:_ Nagini grumbled, still peeved from an earlier conversation on that very matter.

 _:Never mind that! Where's the bloody platform?:_ Tom spat, hands rapidly clenching and unclenching into fists, and knees trembling with nerves.

 _:I don't know, I'm a –:_

Tom took off again down the platform, head swivelling around wildly as he went. That damned professor! He should have told Tom what to do, where to go…it was all his fault! If Tom didn't get to Hogwarts, it would be because of him. If he didn't get to Hogwarts…would they bother coming back for him? Would they send someone to check on him, to bring him there? They surely couldn't leave him at the orphanage – he was magical! They owed him his education, right? But…he was just a mudblood to them…they wouldn't care about him…

He'd make them care about him.

"Ooof!" Tom was thrown roughly to the ground by a careless shove. He was up on his knees, furious, about to bite out an angry retort when he came face-to-face with a brick wall.

 _…_ _What?_

He got onto his feet, uncertain, his anger forgotten, before turning around. There was a crowd of people on the platform, bustling about and shouting goodbyes to passengers on the train. The scene was very similar to what he had seen a few seconds ago, but it was also undeniably different. The people were dressed in long flowing robes, churning a rainbow of colours, as parents voiced their farewells and waved at schoolchildren hanging out the windows of the train.

It was the most beautiful thing Tom had ever seen.

Impressions be damned, Tom _ran_ for that train. His coat was flying around him, and he stumbled over his long green robes as he collided with the red door, hands trembling around the handle and yanking it open. _Finally!_ He flew up the steps, and collapsed to his knees in the hall, his breath coming out in short pants and his hair sticking to his forehead in perspiration. Not ten seconds later, the door shut and Hogwarts Express started slowly moving along the tracks, quickly picking up speed. Tom barked out a few short and hysterical laughs.

"Are you okay there?"

A girl. Tom glanced up, peeking between his lashes at a group of children around his age that was staring down at him, all wearing _muggle_ clothes. Tom immediately straightened up, his relieved grin tightening into a neutral expression.

"I'm fine." _Lies_.

"Oh – if you're sure. We saw you running for the train…" The brunette trailed off, uncertain. Tom glared at her.

"I'm fine." Tom repeated, his tone making it clear that he didn't want the girl to bring it up again. Ever. The girl gave him a weak smile, which Tom didn't care to return. They didn't have to worry about missing the train, or hiding their schoolbooks, or getting lost at The Leaky Cauldron. A professor – maybe even _his_ professor – probably explained it all to them and gave them perfect directions to Diagon Alley, perhaps even accompanying them. Their parents would know all about it too, and make sure they had all the money they needed for clothes and books – nothing second-hand, and they definitely made sure that their children got to the station on time and knew where to go.

They may all be mudbloods, but they were _nothing_ like him.

The ugly flower of jealousy bloomed deep in Tom's heart, and his glare turned icier. The five-or-so children now gathering in the hall were taken aback by his fierce expression, and looked around helplessly at each other. One boy, wearing smart slacks and a cotton blouse, spoke up.

"You can join us in our compartment, if you want. You _were_ pretty late to the train – the others are all full."

Tom sneered, _nobody_ slighted him. Tom looked the cluster up and down, slowly, so they would have no doubt as to the message he was conveying.

"No, thank you." Short, sharp, and faux politeness.

The smartly-dressed mudblood bit his lips, his eyebrows screwing together. "We're being polite! You don't need to be so rude about it."

The others in the group nodded their heads and murmured in agreement, frowning at Tom. As if _he_ cared. Tom turned his nose up at them. "Then do the polite thing and _get out of my way_. I need to find some... _better_ company."

"Oh. You're one of _them_." This time it was a different girl speaking, taller than the others, pretty blonde curls bouncing across the shoulders of her lace dress. She spat out her words with scorn and distaste.

"What do you mean?" Tom asked, genuinely confused.

"A blood supremacist. I met a few while shopping in Diagon Alley with my parents. Didn't know that I'd find a kid _stupid_ enough to believe in it at Hogwarts, however. And you look like a first-year. We're just as good, and we've got magic too – we're no different. And I'll prove it." The girl stated the last part proudly, and half her friends looked at her with admiration, the other half looked at Tom with anger.

Even in the face of so many glares, Tom couldn't be happier. _They thought he wasn't a mudblood!_ Nagini's constant jokes had long since alienated Tom from the idea of being from muggle birth, even though he couldn't prove he wasn't. Maybe, he could pretend he wasn't…maybe, he could fool everyone into thinking he was from a wizarding family… well, apart from the professor. He almost grimaced at the reminder.

"As I said; I find myself in need of _superior_ company." And he strode off down the opposite end of the corridor, not looking back.

 _:Good riddance.:_ Nagini muttered from around his collar of his robe, under his woollen scarf.

 _:Quite.:_ He replied humourlessly. _:Wait…you don't even know English.:_ Tom accused, while scanning the frosted-glass windows on the doors for somewhere suitable. It became evidentially obvious that all the compartments were full, for mindless chatter could be found drifting from nearly all, and the ones remaining stubbornly silent were otherwise locked. Tom theorised that there must be some sort of silencing spell on them or the children inside were just dreadfully dull.

 _:I could tell by the stink.:_ Nagini lazily replied, snuggling her head deeper into Tom's scarf. Tom raised an eyebrow, though it would go unnoticed by the snake.

 _:Really?:_ Tom queried, disbelieving. As if she could tell they were mudbloods by smell alone…

 _:Of course.:_ Nagini confirmed proudly, and Tom snorted.

 _:Of course.:_ He repeated, deadpan, and ignored Nagini's little hiss of approval. He was keeping a careful ear out for compartments which had young occupants and those which were speaking in measured tones. The last thing Tom wanted was for the journey there to be filled with asinine babble.

Calm, youthful yet mature voices slinked out from behind the panels of the compartment he was currently walking past. Tom pulled short, and leant over nearer to the door to try and make out some of the words, but to no avail. Nevertheless, this one seemed to be the most yielding of the lot so far, and so he raised his hand and knocked sharply on the door.

The flow of voices stopped, a beat of silence, and then the wooden door was sliding open a few inches to reveal a frame of a boy with a haughty face and immaculately brushed hair. The frowning boy was adorned with dark blue robes with silver piping that swept down to his laced boots. His face was pinched and evaluating Tom, who refused to wither under the glare of a boy only a year or so his senior.

"Who are you?" The schoolboy questioned, glancing down at Tom's green robes and eyeing his obviously muggle coat. Tom stopped himself from shrugging it off, choosing instead to ignore the scrutiny.

"I'm Tom." He replied shortly, taking care not to include his surname. They'd find out eventually, but Tom would not rather have them think he was a mudblood from the get-go. "And you?"

"Virgil Parkinson." The boy replied, enunciating his last name slowly, as if to provoke an answer from Tom, who just nodded. The name was old and strange, from a culture Tom didn't know of, and it made his own moniker seem feeble and common in comparison.

"May I come in?" Tom wasn't going to beat around the bush, his feet were hurting and he was exhausted from all that running around King's Cross. Whose stupid idea was it to have a fraction for a platform anyway?

Parkinson looked back into the compartment, having a silent conversation with someone before meeting Tom's eyes once again.

"Sure." He answered whimsically, but his warning glare was anything but. Tom smiled in return, ducking into the compartment when Parkinson stepped back. He was met by four youthful faces, some staring at him in cold appraisal and some with unabashed curiosity. All the boys were dressed in elegant robes, and all the children were throwing not so subtle glances at his coat. Tom internally cursed. He tried not to make a show of removing the coat, folding it and placing it on the trunk rack above their heads, where the offending article of clothing was soon joined by Tom's hefty trunk. He had been careful to keep his scarf on and not jolt it out of place, its sole purpose to conceal the forbidden serpent beneath.

With that sorted, he took a seat next to a boy with curly black hair, who shuffled along to make room for Tom. It was hard not to feel somewhat awkward, because said boy then launched into conversation beside Tom, not acknowledging him in the slightest. Being awkward was not something that suited Tom, and so he put effort into relaxing into the seat and pretending to not feel so ill at ease.

"So did you get rid of it in the end?" The boy questioned, looking imploringly at a dusty-haired boy sitting opposite him.

"As I was saying," Dusty-haired drawled, sending a pointed look to curly-hair, "mother had no choice but to dismiss the house-elf. Nasty little thing."

Curly-hair laughed, startling Tom. "It's a wonder she kept it that long!"

"Hmmm." Dusty-hair didn't look amused, and turned his gaze to Tom. "Say, what's your surname? You didn't tell Virgil. You're not a mudblood, are you?" He said the last part accusingly, prompting the others to cast disgusted looks at Tom, who refused to cower.

"Of course not." he responded smoothly. "I'm a Riddle. It's foreign." He added, attempting to put any rumour about his origin to bed, once and for all. Unfortunately, the boys didn't want to comply.

"Doesn't sound foreign." Grey-eyes sneered, who was sitting opposite him and seemed to be the oldest of the lot. The rest nodded in agreement. Tom knew that he needed to dispel those dangerous thoughts, and _fast_.

"It _is_." Tom laced his words with a familiar compelling force, one he had only recently recognised, and soon the boys loosened their suspicious glares and relaxed back into their seats, their temper ebbing away. Tom resolved to be more careful in the future – he could not allow them to think him a mudblood, and he wouldn't be able to _persuade_ everyone otherwise as he did just now.

"Say," he started, desperate to promote other conversation, "you haven't introduced yourselves to me." Time to let them feel like the awkward ones.

"Oh." Curly-hair shrugged sheepishly. "I'm Orion."

"Orion Black." Grey-eyes clarified, his gaze not leaving Tom. "I am Cygnus Black, a _distant_ cousin, I assure you."

"Reuben Greengrass." Dusty-hair drawled, and Tom wondered if he often reduced his speech to a dragged out warble. Other than Parkinson, there was only one other boy who hadn't introduced himself; a sandy-haired boy with owlish hazel eyes.

"I'm Thaddeus. Thaddeus Nott – first year. You're a first year too, like me and Orion, aren't you?"

Tom nodded. So – these would be his future year mates. Tom didn't know quite what to think.

Nott continued. "Virgil and Reuben are second years, and Cygnus is a third year. Both of them are Ravenclaws, and Cygnus is the only Slytherin here – but not for long! Me and Orion will be Slytherins too."

"What about you?" Cygnus had suddenly leant forward, pressing in on Tom's personal space. The others all looked at Tom expectantly.

"What about me?" He stalled, trying to decipher both Cygnus's cryptic question and Nott's senseless talk. What was a Ravenclaw? What was supposed to be slithering? Was it some sort of spell? Tom wished for the umpteenth time that he had had the money to buy some books beyond the ones that had been required for the curriculum, maybe then he would know more about wizarding culture and not be stuck on questions like this.

Cygnus smiled, and it wasn't a nice smile – it was cold and fake and _wrong_ on someone else's face. "What house do you think you'll be in?"

House? What – lodgings? Where did Tom think he would be staying? He knew Hogwarts was a boarding school, but this question seemed to hold a lot of weight judging by the looks the others were giving around the compartment. Tom felt very out of his depth.

Maybe this was what Nott had been talking about?

"Ravenclaw?" He answered, though it came out more like a question. Cygnus sank back in his seat, and smiled slightly. "I don't see it. But…maybe it's for the best." And he looked Tom up and down again. Tom felt angry, and he didn't even know what for – but he knew disrespect when he saw it.

The door to the compartment slammed open.

"Anything off the trolley, dears?"

"Nothing, thank you. For any of us." Cygnus coolly answered, silencing Orion who had started to eagerly recite off a list of goods. The old lady tutted, but nevertheless proceeded to briskly close the door and Tom could hear her wheeling her trolley down the hall.

Tom risked a muttered question to the sulking boy next to him.

"How long's the journey to Hogwarts?"

Orion gave him an odd look, but answered anyway. "A good few hours. It'll be dark when we get there."

Tom sighed – he was at a crux. On one hand, he didn't trust any of these boys and he wanted to gain some more insight on Hogwarts. On the other hand…

"I'm going to try and get some rest. Wake me up before we get there." He directed this at Orion, knowing it probably wouldn't go over well with Cygnus. Miserable sod.

Orion nodded, still somewhat upset with Cygnus over the loss of his sweets.

Tom's last thought before his eyes closed to black was that he hoped he wouldn't have any of those strange nightmares.


	11. Don't forget from whence you came

_:parseltongue:_

* * *

Something wet was tickling his ear, flicking back and forth and making Tom's toes curl up in his shoes. Tom would have squirmed away, but his head was leaning against the panelled wall of the compartment, and so he was locked in place, unable to recoil from the serpent.

 _:Nagini.:_ He hissed into his scarf, which was lightly touching his lips. _:Stop it, you damn snake.:_

 _:Touchy.:_ Nagini hissed in reply, mirth raising her pitch. _:I was just waking you up.:_

 _:I'm awake now!:_ Tom growled, certain that this torture was far crueller than anything he had ever dealt out – not that he was going to tell Nagini that. She'd never stop gloating.

After a few more eons seemed to pass, Nagini stopped teasing his ear lobe and instead moved past his ear to the back of his head, thankfully still concealed by both the scarf and Tom's black locks. Said hair soon became messed-up as Nagini snaked through it. Tom clenched his fists, resisting the urge to pat down his hair. Still feigning sleep, he tilted his head deeper into his scarf.

 _:How long was I out?:_

Tom was growing more anxious by the second. His eyes were only open a crack, just muted tones of light and amorphous blobs greeting him, but he didn't risk opening his eyes further – the other boys would then know he was awake. Call him paranoid, but Tom would rather not enter an already precarious situation blind.

 _:I don't know why you're asking me. Snakes have no need –:_

 _:-for silly human numbers. I know.:_ Tom tried to suppress a yawn.

He wouldn't be having this problem if he hadn't decided to fall asleep. In hindsight, it was easy for Tom to admonish his younger self for exposing them to such vulnerability, and it was easier to forget and gloss over the fact that Tom had arrived dead on his feet to the Hogwarts Express. So, Tom kept his eyelids somewhat closed and stilled his body as best he could in a mimicry of sleep, desperately hoping that the others weren't paying too close attention to him.

He strained his ears, and the hushed tones from the body beside him became clearer.

"– don't know what side we're taking, if any. Father doesn't like to discuss these things with –"

Orion was presumably speaking with Nott, removing two from the equation. Three others left, all silent. No, not quite – he could the faint rustle of turning pages. A book, then. However, he couldn't hear much else. There was nothing for it, he made sure Nagini was secure around his neck and safely concealed by his scarf, before stretching in his seat and blearily rubbing his eyes open.

His vision swam, blurring around the edges before the silver eyes of Cygnus Black came into focus. They were light grey and smirking, not too unlike Tom's own blinking dark ones. Tom prided himself on not reacting, before cracking his neck, grimacing slightly as the tight muscles protested the uncomfortable position he had slumbered in.

"You're awake."

The elder Black was sitting upright in the seat opposite him, an open book resting across his legs. Tom nodded, refraining from pointing out the obvious. From the corner of his eye he could see Parkinson leaning against the window and Greengrass thumbing through a worn spellbook. All the boys were changed into their Hogwarts robes, cut from a silken black material that screamed money. Cygnus had a dark green and silver tire wrapped around his neck, and Tom imagined it was a noose that would choke the annoyingly smug boy.

Greengrass and Parkinson had royal blue and bronze curled under their collars, and Tom quickly deduced that these colours must match to the houses Cygnus mentioned earlier. Would those be the colours Tom would wear? He had chosen Ravenclaw, after all, when Cygnus asked that question.

Tom's gaze drifted to the window, the rolling hills no longer blurring past. Instead, the sky was stained black and purple with a few pinpricks of light poking through, and the outside world was swamped in shadows, too indiscernible for Tom to make heads or tails of where they were. He whipped his eyes back to Cygnus, his brow furrowed.

"You should have woken me up earlier!" He exclaimed, fixing Cygnus with an accusing glare. The boy in question chuckled lowly, only exacerbating Tom's growing ire.

"I _shouldn't_ have done anything. It was your bright idea to take a nap on the way to Hogwarts."

Tom fumed silently, which Cygnus ignored as he smoothly carried on. "Anyway, you still have time to get changed. You'd best get to it."

Tom stood up without a word, and dragged his trunk off the rack and onto his seat, taking care not to bring his coat down with it. He could feel Cygnus's stare boring into his back, and Tom tried not to fidget under the pressure. In the short time that Tom had known Cygnus, he'd quickly found that the third year possessed the annoying ability where he was both infuriating and untouchable. In the past, it was easy for Tom and Nagini to throw a quick torture curse here and there, and Bob's your uncle; no more bothersome brats.

Unfortunately, Tom was a newcomer to the wizarding world and it would be incredibly ruinous to hex the _still smirking_ Black into oblivion. So Tom settled for having his overly-active imagination play out various torture scenes instead, vowing one day that he'd make them happen. Tom knew that if he made one slip-up, he'd fall off the precipice to the bottom of the pile, just another mudblood orphan. It was imperative that he played these elitist games, and his survival depended on him playing them _well_.

He flicked the tarnished latches open, cringing slightly at the poor quality of his possessions, starkly contrasting against the rich cloth carefully laid at the top of his trunk. He thanked the heavens that he's had the foresight to shield his tattered school books with his school robes, allowing himself to play into religious indulgence for once. He folded the robes over his arms, fastening the trunk lid shut as he did so – he didn't dare allow Cygnus even a peek at what lay within.

He stowed the trunk away overhead after locking it, not too trusting of the clumsy mechanism and too suspicious of Cygnus to feel completely comfortable as he left the compartment, intent on finding a bathroom and changing as quickly as he could.

Sharp steps strode over the carpet, stumbling slightly when the train adjusted in speed or turned around the bend, constantly rumbling under his feet. The handrails were cold to touch as he regained his balance, and the windows reflected his untidy state before his breath fogged up the glass. He ran a hand over his hair, smoothing it down, and tightened the scarf around his neck, making sure Nagini was securely in place.

 _:Are we there yet?:_ The serpent hissed, her muscles and bones sore from having been shrunk for so long. Nagini would kill for a rabbit right now, and made a note to instruct the speaker to summon her one as soon as they arrived.

 _:Not yet.:_ Tom muttered, giving his reflection one last glance, before continuing down the hall.

"Hey, you!"

Tom froze. Had someone seen Nagini? Heard him speak to her in parseltongue? He slowly turned around, afraid of what he might see – internally working out the probabilities of _the_ professor standing behind him, disregarding the fact that the voice calling out had been rather young.

It was the mudblood from earlier, the one who had dressed in the slacks and cotton blouse. The one who had called him _rude_. Tom was annoyed to see that the boy had since changed into the Hogwarts robes, albeit of lesser quality than the ones currently folded over Tom's arms. Tom had held a fleeting hope that some idiot would have turned up to the school still in their muggle attire, and it disappointed him that it was appearing to be even more unlikely.

When Tom was younger, when Mrs Cole believed Tom to be the devil incarnate, he was constantly told through the medium of scolding talks that he must be more polite, that he ought to find some manners. Unfortunately for Mrs Cole and her merry band of helpers, Tom lacked a moral compass, and the matron's stern reprimands went straight over his head. Tom didn't have any motivation, any real _need_ to behave decently until he discovered that people rarely found fault with well-mannered children, and were more likely to side with them.

In Tom's case, he discovered that asking instead of ordering someone to do something was much more effective, and that was how he started down the path of 'getting what he wanted'. Unfortunately for the mudblood, the boy didn't possess power nor knowledge nor status. So there was no need for Tom to be civil at all.

"Well? What do you want?" Tom sneered.

The mudblood reacted as expected, anger pulling at his face before resignation slowly crept in. It was now time to do damage control, either by threat or persuasion, to convince the boy that Tom wasn't a nutter who had been randomly hissing in the middle of a hallway.

"The toilets are that way." The mudblood gestured to the opposite end of the corridor, away from the direction Tom had been taking.

Oh. Tom wasn't expecting that. No damage control necessary, then. Tom was _almost_ disappointed.

The mudblood continue, oblivious to Tom's inner musings. "Thought it would be helpful."

"Why are you telling me this?" Tom asked, curious and doubtful at the same time. Was the boy being genuine – or was this all a trick? Was he staging an ambush, with his other mudblood friends all waiting to pounce at Tom?

"Forget it. I was only trying to be nice, you know. We got off on the wrong foot." The mudblood was frowning once again. Tom had that sort of effect on people.

He agreed, however, that they did get off on a wrong foot. When the mudblood's gaggle of friends accused him of being a blood supremacist, which he was hypocritically pretending to be so he could make friends with other blood supremacists. It was clear to Tom that no efforts should be made to correct the original impression those children held of him.

Tom smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes; a stone grin carved in polished alabaster. He stalked over to the boy, a predator in lurking behind grinning teeth. This was his domain, it always had been…

"Tom Riddle." A filthy, common name. But a name that now served a purpose.

"Harvey McVey." The boy answered in return, brown eyes darting to Tom's figure, rapidly closing in…

And Tom walked right past McVey, whose head turned slowly around to watch as he walked by, wide eyes blinking with an ounce of fear. Just the way Tom liked it.

Seven minutes later, Tom had reached his compartment once again, having getting changed in one of the cubicles. He was pleased to find that his trunk lay untouched on the rack, no tampering evident. Tom brought it down once more, placing his dark green robe inside, for he was now dressed in the moderately expensive school robes he had purchased at Madam Malkins'. Orion turned away from Nott as Tom sat down beside him, smiling guiltily.

"I forgot to wake you, didn't I?"

Tom nodded absently, adjusting the black tie around his neck. Nagini was wrapped around his right arm, the loose sleeve of his outer robe snugly accommodating her. Tom knew that it would be too suspicious if he continued to wear his woollen scarf, especially when it presumably wasn't going to be all that cold in the school, and so this made for a simpler solution.

"Looks like we've reached Hogsmeade." Parkinson commented, staring out of the window into some dark abyss. Just as he said that, a voice echoed down the compartments with instructions for them to leave their trunks behind. The train soon started to slow down. Small tendrils of excitement squeezed around Tom's heart, and his hands started trembling. He had no clue what Hogsmeade was, but it was wizard-sounding enough for him.

* * *

Nagini stared apprehensively out of the speaker's sleeve, the glittering waters reflecting in her black eyes. The boy better not drop her in… A sudden splash burst from the rippling surface, and Nagini Definitely Did Not Spring Back In Fright.

Tom noticed Nagini's agitation as the pressure rose around his arms, Nagini's coils tightening unpleasantly. He casually brought his hand to his cheek as if to lean on it, elbow resting on the side of the bobbing boat, while hissing into his sleeve.

 _:You're cutting off my blood supply.:_

 _:Good.:_ Nagini hissed back, clenching further. Tom pressed his lips firmly together and bit back a cry, feeling his lower arm bruise. Why must Nagini be so inconvenient? Tom leant out over the boat, rocking it slightly, and inspected the murky waters lapping the sides. He guessed it could be eerie, but not destroy-Tom's-arm-scary.

"Do you mind?" Nott gritted out from between clenched teeth, hands white from gripping the sides of the boat and looking as distressed as Nagini felt. Tom dutifully leant back into the boat's centre, unavoidably rocking the boat further. A small hiss of breath blew through Nott's lips at the same time as Nagini also hissed in fear, and the boy scrunched his eyes tightlty shut.

"Are you scared of the lake?" A boy sitting next to Nott asked, incredulous. As it was four to a boat, Tom, Orion, and Nott had been joined by another first year, who Orion apparently knew if their warm greetings had been anything to go by.

"No…" Nott denied, but his pale and stricken face wasn't exactly helping him.

The boy leant in closer, and whispered conspiratorially. "Did you know that there's a giant squid in the lake? Some first years have been known to disappear on this boat ride over."

Orion snorted. "Shut it, Llewellyn." He patted Nott's shoulders, who was now faintly shivering – whether from the cold or fright was uncertain, but Tom was betting the latter. "He's just winding you up."

Llewellyn smirked. "How would you know, Black?"

Orion huffed. "I just – I just know, ok? Someone would have told me if –"

"What, like Cygnus?" Llewellyn interrupted. "As if. He'd want you to fall in!"

Orion scowled, and sat back in the seat in indignation. The boat rocked again.

"Stop it!" Nott managed to snap those two words out, before closing back in on himself. Llewellyn laughed, casting an arm around Nott's shoulders.

"Don't worry, Nott. We'll keep you safe from the squid!"

Nott proceeded to kick Llewellyn in the shins, and the boy recoiled back in faux pain, causing the boat to wobble again.

 _:Will you stop!:_ Nagini hissed, her voice raised higher and trembling slightly. Only a slight quirk to Tom's lips gave away his amusement.

"Look, it's Hogwarts!"

Orion's excited voice had Tom's head come flying up, a grand castle looming above his head and out of the treeline. Even Nott forgot his fear to stare in wonder as the famed school came into view, mouth parting slightly in sheer awe. Tom felt as though he could taste the magic of the place, a warm buzz on the tip of his tongue, a refreshing melody to his ears.

Regardless of status or blood purity, all the new first years were silent in their first glimpse of the majestic stone building, which was to be their home for the next seven years.

"It's massive." Tom breathed softly, almost speaking to himself. Nott nodded in agreement. Llewellyn smiled from opposite Tom, the gentle orange light from the torches shining across his brow.

"I haven't introduced myself properly, have I? Mother would be furious if she knew. I'm Avery, Llewellyn Avery." The boy held out a hand for Tom to shake, which he did so without hesitation.

"Tom."

Avery cocked his head to the side, an eyebrow raised.

Tom chuckled, though it was slightly uneasy. "You wouldn't have heard of my family. It's foreign."

Something akin to understanding flashed through Avery's eyes. Tom didn't know what to think; had the boy figured him out? But Avery wasn't accusing him or glaring at him with disdain, only curiosity. Let him think what he must, Tom would deal with the boy later if it became a problem.

The boat finally creeped up onto the pebbled shore, after sailing through a dark tunnel that seemed to go right under the castle, and Nott was the first one to bolt off the boat. Tom and the other boys followed soon after, equally enthusiastic to enter Hogwarts for the first time.

They, along with the other excited first years were first led into a massive hall lit by flaming torches, and then to a smaller room off the side where a professor – the one who had first met with Tom – explained to them about a 'sorting'. From what Tom could make out, the 'houses' were apparently hugely important to the school system and were based off of the student's personality. From the scattered mutterings from the assorted students around him, he could quickly gather that Slytherin was considered the worst.

"Blood traitors." Avery quipped from by his side, sneering at some of the chatting first years. "Bound for Gryffindor I'm sure."

Tom smiled, pretending to understand the reference.

A commotion quickly sprang up as imposing doors swung open, the professor attempting to order them into some sort of line as the first years streamed into an even grander hall, the air of which was vibrating with hundreds of voices.

Tom trained his face not to spin round and gawk at everything he could see, from the beautiful ceiling to the floating candles, and remained impassive as older children laughed and remarked on this year's batch of new students. Tom began to struggle to remain so impassive, however, when a flood of silvery-white apparitions floated through the walls and descended onto the student populations, which was apparently normal if the children's jeers and shouts were anything to go by.

At the end of the hall was a long table, crowded by professors who were either intently evaluating the first years or gently smiling at them. Tom didn't know which was worse. But, by far the oddest thing he could see was an old, tattered hat, sitting out of place on a four-legged stool in front of the professors' table, which all the first years were pointing at and whispering, some fearful and worried, others boastful and sure.

Nay, scratch that, the oddest thing by far at Hogwarts was when the old, tattered hat split open near it's brim and started to _sing_.


	12. The Lying Invective

_:parseltongue:_

 _'thoughts'_

* * *

Tom didn't pay too much attention to the rhyming song the old hat was spouting; the novelty of which quickly disappeared like the first sweet notes of freshly sprayed perfume – enticing at first, but soon fading. Instead he let his eyes trail and weave over people, capturing the wide eyes and eye rolls and crinkled-around-the-edges. People, were something Tom was good at. What made them tick, what made them break – what made them unravel and then tie up into something pretty for Tom.

He could tell Avery was doing the same – the boy standing by him had an air of impatience about him, not listening to the hat's warbles but keeping his senses busy. He traced the boy's stare to the professor's table, and keenly evaluated the teachers as he knew Avery must also be doing. These were people, and Tom _knew_ people – whether they had magic in their blood or not made no difference. Whether they had 'Professor' attached to their name made no difference, too.

Dour witches and wizards wrapped in velvets and silks and cloth lined the long table, pointed hats aplenty, long beards – white, black, and brown, lips pursed in grim smiles and resigned despair. These people would have an ounce of authority over Tom's next seven years, and he needed to start making good impressions; one had already slipped through the cracks.

The man himself was smiling pleasantly in the wings, dressed in garish _pink_ robes, waiting for the hat to finish it's dreadful tune. Tom's hatred curled in the corner of his mind and hissed, while Tom himself tightened his face to remain neutral. It would not do to have his peers aware of any emotional weakness.

"If you're not in Slytherin, don't expect me to speak with you again." A voice whispered in his ear, and Tom almost thought it was Nagini if it weren't for the lack of sibilance and actual content.

"You're assuming that I would want to, Avery." Tom murmured, keeping his gaze strictly pointed ahead.

He could feel Avery's white straight teeth smiling behind his shoulder.

"You wound me, how shall I ever get over the social snubbing of a name-less boy?"

Tom inwardly bristled, but kept a short smile painted on his face.

"Names are powerful things, Avery. I would liken them to a spell – watch how mine enchants you when I take the stage."

Avery laughed. "Clever, Tom. But let's hope that yours won't fizzle out when called – it won't matter if you're Slytherin, if you have no power in the first place."

"But what is power, Avery? Is it fine clothes, money, strength? No – power is what you make of it, it's import lies where you place it." Tom turned around, flashing a smile at the boy. "And you're talking to me."

A slow grin slid across Avery's face.

"Well then, oh nameless one. Let's reveal our cards."

Almost as if the tattered hat had been listening in on their conversation, it chose that very second to finish it's last note, putting an end to their discussion. Tom turned back round to the front, and watched with narrowed eyes as the professor took the stage, long robes drooping on the steps. Blue eyes twinkled down at the first years, warm and genial, and Tom could feel Avery's rancour behind him.

"Muggle-lover." Avery spat, enmity stiffening his words. Tom felt inclined to agree – how could a wizard _love_ those who were so clearly lesser than them? Did the professor not know how they treated Tom, how they scorned him for being different?

The professor unrolled a long sheet of parchment, curling at the bottom with black splashes of ink running down in what Tom supposed was a list. The professor peered through half-moon glasses at the top of the sheet.

"Akram, Asira." Called the professor, and a tall girl with shiny black hair made her way over to the stool, where the professor then lifted the hat to rest on her head. The hat was too big – it fell down over the girl's eyes and Tom started to wonder how sanitary it was – it certainly wasn't hygienic for all the first years to wear the same hat in succession of each other.

The hat's wide rim split open, the warped leather wrinkling.

"RAVENCLAW." It bellowed, but was soon drowned out by the fierce clapping from one of the tables after the first syllable was uttered. Tom raised an eyebrow – would the houses do that for every student? If so, it would surely get old fast.

The professor lifted the hat off of Akram's head, and gestured to the applauding table. The girl skipped down and sat with her new housemates, seemingly relieved to be out of the spotlight. Tom wondered how the hat was sorting them; how did it know their personality just from being in contact with their heads – could it read minds? Tom shivered. That hat better not say anything about him if it could go through his memories, or the professor would be on to him.

The professor cleared his throat, and read out the next name on the list.

"Avery, Llewellyn."

Avery winked at Tom as he strode past. "Just watch – Slytherin for sure."

Avery was right, Tom had to give him that. The hat called out a booming 'SLYTHERIN' not a few seconds after dropping onto Avery's head, and Tom watched as the boy swaggered over to the far table. Would that be where Tom was going? Or would he end up in Ravenclaw, like he had told Cygnus. Tom began to wonder if it really mattered about personality in the end – maybe they could just choose where they went.

A brown-haired girl was sorted into Gryffindor, and then it was Orion's turn. Orion had announced on the train that he would be going to Slytherin, and half a minute later he was proved right. Tom followed the curly-haired boy as he happily sat down at the table, and started conversing with Avery. Tom was about to avert his gaze back to the sorting, when he accidentally locked eyes with Cygnus Black who was sitting not too far away from his younger cousin.

The older boy was smirking at him, again. What was his deal? Was he trying to intimidate Tom? Well, he'd have nothing to show for it – Tom wasn't easily scared. Tom broke eye contact dismissively, trying not to make it seem too submissive. Tom could feel that Cygnus was worming his way into becoming an irritable itch for Tom, and he supposed it was just power-plays. He reckoned that the 'ambition' the professor had associated with Slytherins in his earlier talk was just another way of saying 'power-hungry'.

At some point Nott had re-joined Tom after Orion was sorted, and started to comment on the sortings – Tom didn't know if he was trying to be helpful, showing off, or just wanted to talk to someone. Tom didn't particularly mind – as Nott ran his mouth, he was picking up useful titbits of information about his classmates.

"Lestrange's not going to be happy he went to Ravenclaw. He's always wanted to be in Slytherin – too bookish I guess."

Tom nodded, Clarence Lestrange had been sorted into Ravenclaw just after Euros Holmes had been, and he was beginning to suspect that Ravenclaw was seen as the most acceptable house after Slytherin. Well, at least with the boys he had talked to so far. A redhead boy standing a few feet away from him was boisterously declaring to a gaggle of friends how Gryffindor was 'obviously the best'. From what Tom could hear, if that were the sort of student that Gryffindor admitted then he was determined to stay clear of _that_ house, thank-you-very-much.

Soon after it was Nott's turn, and Tom watched with interest as the boy was sorted into Slytherin after a few minutes. He had noticed that all the sortings seemed to be taking different amounts of time – some very quick and some dragging on for a good few minutes. The longest so far had been six minutes, and all the students had been muttering and complaining as those final seconds ticked by.

The next student was called up, who was promptly sorted into Ravenclaw, and then to Tom's surprise his name was called next. He had been so engrossed in his ponderings that he'd forgotten that he was meant to be sorted too, and it was with careful trepidation that he made his way over to the hat – refusing to meet the professor's eyes. He still kept his gaze level and walked upright nonetheless, sitting down on the stool confidently as if he had no other cares.

The musty leather brow of the hat blacked out his vision and Tom felt somewhat unnerved to be in the dark, vulnerable, but stilled himself as he knew all the students would still be able to see him, even if he could not see anything at all.

 _'_ _Well, what have we here?'_

Tom almost jumped from shock, but stopped himself just in time. The voice was low but jolly, and sly while still seeming amiable.

 _'_ _Who are you?'_ Tom questioned, in his head, for that was surely where the voice had come from. He knew the answer to his question before the voice replied.

 _'_ _Why, I am the sorting hat! But you already know that, don't you Mr Riddle?'_

Tom nodded, before catching himself and hoping that no one was paying too close attention to his sorting. The hat laughed, a weird gravelly chuckle that was loud but not at the same time, in the same way that the inner voice in Tom's head always remained at the same volume.

 _'_ _Well, let's get you sorted then. I see you've thought about Ravenclaw, and you certainly have a mind sharp enough for it.'_

Tom, while inwardly pleased, pressed onto other matters. _'_ _What exactly are you looking through in my head? Are you able to access memories, or are you able to gauge a base personality-'_

 _'_ _If you're worried about me revealing secrets, then you shouldn't. The founder's enchanted me for the purpose of sorting students, not passing around idle gossip in the staffroom.'_

Tom was slightly relieved, but still uneasy at the thought of the hat rummaging through his head.

 _'_ _I can see why you're nervous, boy – parseltongue is not a common skill, and you've been wise to hide it. That's a Slytherin trait both ways – and Slytherin certainly suits you.'_

 _'_ _So, Slytherin, then? Is that the best place for me?'_

 _'_ _Best? Perhaps. You would be great in Slytherin – in due time, of course. Ravenclaw would help nurse your intellect – and you may find it…less hostile.'_

 _'_ _Because I was muggle-raised?'_

 _'_ _More than that, Mr Riddle, but you'll find out the prejudices in due time, I have no doubt. I can already see you have formed some yourself.'_

Tom stopped himself from arguing with the hat, knowing that it would get him nowhere. The hat continued on.

 _'_ _Hufflepuff isn't for you – you'd eat them alive.'_

Tom almost smiled at that but then immediately rejected the notion of going to that house – the other boys had assured him that it was full of duffers when the professor had been detailing the houses.

 _'_ _Gryffindor isn't a fit for you either. You may be brave at times, Mr Riddle, but it is not the sort of bravery that fits with the lion house. No, I am sure of it, better be_ _ **SLYTHERIN!**_ _'_

Tom heard the name of his new house reverberating outside of the hat, the only part of their conversation that had been spoken aloud to the hall. The hat came loose from Tom's head and Tom caught a brief flash of concern from the professor as he trooped down the Slytherin table.

Only, no one was clapping. Tom was sure that the table had applauded for the other Slytherin first years, but none of it was coming his way. Tom sat down stiffly on the bench beside Nott, ignoring the lip-curls and disgusted looks the majority of his house was sending him.

Nott was looking at him with something akin to pity in his eyes, which Tom pretended not to see – no one _pitied_ him.

"So, _Riddle_ , what sort of name is that?" Avery had leant over from across the table to him as wave of mutters picked up around the table, which Tom obstinately ignored.

"It's foreign." He replied, no emotion evident in his tone. This was the answer he had to stick to, if he was to make any headway with these people.

Avery smirked. "That's what you said on the boat. I thought that you might belong to one of those families fleeing Europe due to the unease around Grindelwald, but _that's not a foreign name_. And you have no accent. So, try again, _mudblood_."

Tom didn't know what or who Grindelwald was, but he understood the slur at the end of Avery's speech. The others in hearing distance had nodded in agreement with Avery, and Tom caught the tail-end of some not so subtle language. The sorting was nearing the end now, but the accusing looks of his housemates refused to die down.

"I don't care what you believe, Avery, I have spoken the truth. If you can't recognise my name, then I think it speaks more for your background than mine."

Let them stew on that for a while.

"Your background, Riddle, is not something I'd wish to pollute my mind thinking about."

Tom had nothing to say to that.

* * *

Tom lay silent underneath his sheets, troubled and thinking about what sort of act he must pull off tomorrow. The rest of the night had continued in a similar vein, with the general consensus in Slytherin house that Tom Riddle was indeed a mudblood, neverminding that they had no proof for it. Tom ignored the voice in his head that told him he had no proof for not being either, discounting Nagini's parseltongue excuse.

Tom was reluctant to share that skill with his housemates, as he didn't know if that proved he wasn't a mudblood and he didn't want to risk Nagini if news of Tom's talent made it's way back to the professor, who'd surely check for the snake and take her away.

Tom had chosen a bed on the far side of the room when they had entered, and promptly shut his hangings. From the outside, he could hear his roommates talking in hushed tones – undoubtedly about him.

 _:Nagini.:_ He hissed, and allowed the serpent to unwind herself from around his neck and onto the bed.

 _:Unshrink me now, boy.:_ Nagini replied, somewhat grumpy. Tom acquiesced, and focused his magic on undoing the charm set onto Nagini.

Nagini hissed contently as she expanded to her full size, thankfully no part of her protruding out of the bed's curtains.

 _:Make sure you don't leave this bed, Nagini. Or the others will see you and you may be taken away.:_

Nagini said nothing, but instead chose to bury the bulk of herself under Tom's pillow.

 _:I'm serious.:_ Tom insisted, growing worried that Nagini may take no heed of his instruction and slither off into the common room, or worse.

Nagini grumbled. _:What do you want me to do, stay here all year?:_

Tom frowned. _:No, I'll think of something. Maybe I can make the others promise not to rat us out.:_

But that sounded weak to Tom's ears; he didn't want to have to owe anyone anything.

 _:Rats… I'm hungry.:_

Tom sighed. _:All you think about is food, Nagini. I can't summon you anything now – maybe in the morning, if I get up early.:_

 _:Spoilsport.:_

Tom rolled onto his back, looking up at the dark green velvet material stretched over the top of his bed.

 _:I'm in Slytherin, Nagini. It's said to be the house of snakes – imagine that, me, the anathema of the house I should hold command over.:_

 _:Let's see how commanding you are when I strangle you in your sleep.:_

Tom playfully swatted the snake, before growing serious again _. :I mean it. I can tell that they all despise me. I don't know how to fix this.:_ He admitted to himself, for once in his life unsure of how to proceed. Things weren't going to plan, and Tom didn't know how to set things right.

 _:Ummm. I think giving me some rabbits will greatly help your thought process.:_

Tom barked a short and bitter laugh. _:Maybe, Nagini. Maybe I'll feed Slytherin house to you instead.:_

 _:I wouldn't be too opposed to the idea…:_

 _:Nor would I, dear serpent. I find myself lacking in options…:_ Tom trailed off. Maybe if he ignored the problem, everything would right itself. No…that's not the way the world worked. Tom would have to solve this, and solve it soon, before it grew into something big and uglier. He'd just have to show everyone that he was worthy of being in Slytherin, that he was worthy of their attention – he knew he was the best at magic, and starting tomorrow he'd make sure the others would know it too.

And if they still didn't…well, he didn't practice on Dennis and Amy for nothing.


	13. Less Astute, Dead or Destitute

_:parseltongue:_

 **spells**

* * *

Tom should have seen this coming. It wasn't like he held the world from a sickeningly optimistic viewpoint, with everyone getting along and helping each other, and he usually prided himself on the crisp realistic point of view he had maintained throughout the majority of his years. So, Tom really should have expected his stuff to be trashed when he was woken up in the morning by a bucket of cold water.

"Time to go, mudblood! Don't disgrace the house with your delay!"

Avery's jeering voice barely permeated through Tom's sputtering, as he coughed up some of the water that had splashed into his open mouth. His throat burned with the intrusions as he hacked roughly into his sheets. Sheets which were sodden and drenched in the water. Tom furiously wiped the water off his face, droplets splashing onto the stone floor and dampening the dry patches on his otherwise damp cover. Amid his roommates' laughter he could hear Orion telling them all to go to breakfast, and Tom stayed in the soaking bed as the boys trooped out the room, a vicious scowl slicing across his face.

 _:Speaker, I am going to kill those overgrown rabbits.:_ Nagini hissed from beneath his covers.

 _:I have no objections to that.:_ Tom spat, pulling the duvet off of the serpent, who was coiled up by his feet. His bare feet padded on the stone floor as he slipped off the bed and started peeled his pyjamas off, the cotton sticking to his skin unpleasantly. When he had managed to unstick the pyjamas from his body, he bundled them in with the water-logged sheets and prayed that Hogwarts had some sort of laundry system; he did not want to be sleeping in wet sheets tonight.

His trunk was lying on the floor, lid open and a trail of clothes dropped around the room, as if a small animal had ransacked his trunk for food before realising that Tom's school robes wouldn't make a tasty meal. Of course, it wasn't an animal that made this mess - _though it might as well have been_ , Tom thought - but instead the culprits were his roommates. Tom cursed. He cursed quite a bit, actually.

But if Tom was good at one thing, it was compartmentalisation. Shoving his growing bitterness to the back of his mind, and ignoring the sudden burn in his fingertips as his magic itched to flood the room with curses, Tom stiffly collected his clothes off of the floor and stuffed them back into his trunk, silently thankful that the boys had the sense to leave his textbooks untouched. Tom didn't want to imagine what it would be like to turn up to his classes without the necessary material.

He'd long since memorised it all, of course, having nothing much better to do over the waning summer months at the orphanage, but he doubted that the teachers would be too impressed with him if he didn't at least bring the books along to their lessons. It probably had something to do with the house points, Tom remembered, as the professor had made them seem pretty important in his speech.

Tom picked up an old watch that had been flung out of his trunk. The scratched glass was nothing new, and Tom twisted it to the side in order to make out the time. Seven forty-six. Breakfast started at seven, but ended at nine-thirty so he still had plenty of time no matter what the other Slytherin first years had said. Tom didn't care if he 'disgraced' the house by showing up late, he was going to get his stuff sorted out first. There were no classes today, as they were deliberately off timetable in order to prepare the first years for the new school year and to let them get used to the school, and therefore the only times Tom needed to present himself were at meals; he planned to spend the rest of the day exploring the school. Maybe the dungeons, too.

Tom grabbed a towel from the bathroom connected to their dorm and started drying himself, making sure that his hair was bereft of the water as well. It would be no use showing up to the hall with his hair sopping wet and looking like a half-drowned rat. He'd have to do something about that – he couldn't let it go unchallenged. If he didn't do anything then it would be the same as giving the whole of Slytherin an open invitation to walk all over him for the rest of the year, and he couldn't have that.

 _:Boy, I demand a rabbit.:_ Nagini suddenly hissed from the floor, having apparently retreated from the swamp currently occupying his bed.

 _:I'm busy.:_ Tom hissed in return, shrugging on his school robes, and trying to pat down the wrinkles.

 _:But you promised…:_

 _:I did nothing of the sort.:_ Damn snake and her untimely demands. Couldn't she see that Tom was in the midst of plotting revenge?

 _:But I haven't eaten in ages….:_ Nagini whined, butting her head against Tom's foot. Tom kicked her away.

 _:You had a rabbit two days ago!:_ Nagini, Tom decided, was the greediest snake he had ever known. Did she not know that snakes could go for weeks without a meal? Or was she just doing this to annoy Tom? Both seemed likely.

 _:Yes…but I want a rabbit now.:_ Nagini slithered back over to Tom, ignoring her smarting head and placed her head in his lap as he combed his hair while sitting perched on the end of his trunk.

 _:Nagini, you realise that puppy-dog eyes only work if you're a mutt, don't you?:_ Tom hissed, trying to flatten his hair down into a sensible side-parting, frowning at the curls forming at the end.

: _These aren't puppy eyes. These are cute and irresistible hatchling eyes.:_

 _:I thought you threatened to bite me if I ever called you cute?:_

 _:Just give me a damned rabbit, you silly boy, or I will bite you right now.:_

Tom rolled his eyes _. :That's not very cute.:_

 _:Speaker…:_ Nagini hissed warningly.

 _:Alright, alright. Keep your scales on.:_

Tom plucked his yew wand from his robe pocket, and studied it for a second. He hadn't performed any magic with it over the summer, sticking to his usual wandless magic, but he wondered how different it would be to cast magic with the wand.

He twirled it in a circle, brow furrowed in concentration. " **Coniarcesso**."

A brown rabbit blinked into existence at the end of his wand, and it didn't even manage one hop before Nagini was enveloping it with her stretched jaws. Tom's eyebrows rose and he studied his wand in a new light. That spell had been considerably easier to cast than in the past times he had done so. Maybe that was why wizards used wands – magic was easier to perform with the tool than without.

While Nagini was happily munching on her rabbit, Tom was flipping the latches to his trunk shut, before stowing it away back under his bed. There must be some sort of locking spells he could use to protect the trunk, surely? He'd have to do some research – and maybe look up some more _harmless_ curses as well. It would be no use of one of his classmates ran to Dumbledore screaming bloody murder when Tom enacted his retribution. No, some more mild spells were definitely in need of being learnt.

Tom cast one final glance around his dorm room, all his belongings were back in their original place and he was dressed in dry clothes. The only remaining problems were now the serpentine bane of his life and his ruined bed.

 _:Nagini, could you go back onto the bed…:_ Tom trailed off, although Nagini had her mouth full of rabbit, he still failed to miss the eye-daggers she was sending him. Translation: _no way in hell_. Right.

 _:Well, you can't just stay out here on the floor. The others will see you when they get back:_ Tom protested, hoping to make the serpent see the logical part his argument. Tom conveniently forgot that snakes weren't logical. Or, maybe it was that they were _too_ logical?

Still no movement from the snake.

 _:I'm not taking you with me! Not when you have that rabbit dangling out your mouth:_ Tom sniffed, casting a wary eye at the animal slowly being gulped down into oblivion. Tom paced around the dormitory, hoping for inspiration or some _deus ex machina_ to get him out of this mess. Unfortunately, Tom couldn't just get her to hide under the bed as the hangings didn't reach that far down. And Nagini was refusing to go into Tom's still wet bed.

Tom's next course of action was taken out of his hands when Orion stormed into the room, the door slamming behind him.

"Tom! You need to get to the -" Orion abruptly stopped when he saw the twelve foot snake stretched out along the floor, a rabbit halfway swallowed. Tom himself was striding over to the boy, grabbing him by the collar and pushing the shocked boy against the wall.

"Not. A. Word. Understand this, Black, and the next meal this snake will have is you, understand?" Tom hissed in a low voice, his mouth up by Orion's ear. The boy nodded dumbly, his terrified eyes off of the snake and now onto Tom. Tom was far too panicked to even begin to enjoy the situation.

"I…I understand," Orion stammered, eyes darting back to the snake on the floor. Tom loosened his grip and stepped back, watching as the boy slowly massaged his tender throat from where collar had tightened around it. Then Orion fixed his eyes on Tom, steelier than before and the boy had to remind himself that these weren't snotty little orphans he was dealing with, but hardened purebloods.

"Why is there a snake in our dormitory, Riddle?"

Tom's eyes flashed. " _I said_ , not a word…"

"I won't mention this to the others, a pureblood never goes back on his word," Orion said haughtily, mouth twitching when Tom caught the insult, "Even if it was given…under duress. But that doesn't mean I have to be oblivious. Answer the question, and I'll be more inclined to keep my end of the deal."

 _The deal preventing you from becoming snake-food_ , Tom thought snidely. Nagini herself was ignoring the commotion, still utterly absorbed in the rabbit. Stupid snake – what if Tom had been in danger? Would she still just merrily eat her food if Tom was being threatened?

"She's a pet." Tom stated, neglecting to give too many details away. He scrutinised the boy's face as he absorbed the new information, noticing a small frown form on the younger Black's face.

"So? You're not allowed snakes at Hogwarts, Riddle. Did you even get your letter?"

"Of course I did!" Tom retorted, familiar outrage bubbling back up, "But you're not going to tell anyone about this, are you, Black? So it shouldn't be a problem."

Orion slowly nodded. "Fine, have it your way, Riddle. But I know you're hiding something more, and you won't be able to keep it from me forever."

"We'll see about that." Tom sneered, twitching as Orion just rolled his eyes.

"Come on, we need to get to the Great Hall for breakfast. Avery's practically spitting fire because you haven't shown up yet."

"He should have thought of that before he tipped a bucket of water over my head." Tom snapped, fixing Orion with an indignant glare.

Orion just shrugged. "Doesn't matter. You're just lucky that I was the one who came up to get you. Things would have been a lot worse off for you otherwise."

Tom made no signs of either agreeing nor disagreeing.

"I suppose you're trying to hide the snake?" Orion questioned, light grey eyes flicking back to the serpent, just the rabbit's feet sticking out from between her lips now. The boy grimaced.

At Tom's nod, he continued, "Well, if you can get her to stay under the bed, I could cast a disillusion ward on the area. It won't stay up for long – maybe until tonight – but it'll keep him practically invisible while you decide what to do next."

"Her," Tom automatically corrected, before staring back at the pureblood with suspicion, "Why are you helping me?"

Orion flashed a cheeky grin, "You owe me now, see? I do this for you, and you have to do a favour for me in the future. You sure you're a Slytherin, Riddle?"

"The hat put me here, didn't it?" Tom snapped, eyes narrowing as the boy hummed.

"Alright – just checking. You're not really the Slytherin type, see."

 _You're not a pureblood._

Tom's lips thinned. "Just put up the damn ward, Black."

Wards were briefly remarked upon in one of Tom's defence textbooks but other than a small side note they weren't explained at all. He watched curiously as Orion drew out a long black wand, tensing when the curly-haired youth pointed it at his bed, and watched in fascination as a series of symbols burned into the air in front of the bed, before fading.

"They're runes," Orion murmured, pushing his wand back into his pocket. "I'm quite good with them, you know. Father taught me some wards before I came to Hogwarts so I could protect my stuff. Cygnus didn't get taught any when he first went to Hogwarts because he doesn't _get_ them like I do."

Tom nodded distractedly, thought in reality he was noting down the information and mentally storing it away for future use.

Orion sighed, "Now, we really _must_ get going. Avery's going to have my head."

Tom knelt down by Nagini and hissed quite instructions in her ear, taking care to make sure Orion couldn't hear. The snake slithered under Tom's bed, and he watched silently as she disappeared under the ward.

"Thanks," Tom mumbled awkwardly, disliking the sense of debt he now felt towards the other boy. At least he now had a new area of magic he could research, however; wards seemed absolutely fascinating.

Orion laughed, "Don't mention it, Riddle, just come through on your end when I need it, alright?"

Tom nodded, pretending to find his shoes interesting as they left the dorms and trudged through the common room, ignoring the scorns from some of his housemates who had already finished breakfast.

They walked through the halls in silence, the cheerful laughter from other students echoing down the corridors causing Tom's fists to clench tighter than they already were. He didn't need friends. They were unnecessary baggage and a waste of time, and would only serve to distract him from his school work. Nagini didn't count, she was too annoying to be a friend.

"Look, Riddle…" Orion started hesitantly, black curly hair hiding the way his eyes darted to the floor. "I don't really mind you; you're not half bad, to be honest, but - "

"You can't appear to be amicable with me." Tom finished monotonously. Orion flashed him a nervous smile.

"You understand, don't you? It's just politics, that's all. We – I – don't really mean anything by it."

"Of course," Tom murmured, dark eyes staring resolutely ahead. "Better go walk ahead of me, then. Wouldn't want anyone to think we're being _friendly_."

Something almost akin to hurt pulled at Orion's face before the boy snapped himself away from Tom. "Good idea, Riddle," he said weakly, before nodding and walking faster, no longer keeping in pace with Tom.

It didn't matter. Tom had no need for friends.


	14. Snakes and Ladders

**spells**

* * *

The mood at the table was sombre. Well, at least it was for Tom. He hoped it was for everyone else as well, all the other Slytherins who were gossiping with their friends and failing to hide their disgust and laughter from him. His fist tightened around his fork, now clamping down on it so hard that he half-expected it to snap right there in his hand.

Apparently, even though Avery had wanted him to come down to breakfast, he hadn't wanted Tom to sit with him. The only empty spot for him had been at the very end of the table, right by the teachers. In any other situation, he would have been irritated to have to sit so close to the professors, but he suspected that their close proximity to him was the only thing stopping his housemates from rounding on him.

He didn't know what it was, but Hogwarts seemed less magical this morning than it did at the sorting last night. The colours were more muted and dulled, the impressive stone walls had visible cracks and the magical ceiling was lacklustre. He must have been viewing everything through rose-tinted glasses last night, holding onto some feeble hope that he would find somewhere he belonged. No, that was the foolish hope of idiots, dreamers, and optimists. This was the real world – the world of prejudice and scorns and wobbly benches.

He stubbornly stabbed at his scrambled egg, not hungry in the slightest, and moved it around on his plate in boredom. The metal fork grated and screeched against the ceramic, but Tom didn't care. He felt like screeching too.

Grey eyes flickered up between dark lashes to observe the professors. Only a few of them were there, and Tom supposed that some must have eaten earlier or didn't eat with the students at all. A flash of caerulean blue snagged his gaze and he saw the professor, Dumbledore, draped in a star-patterned robe and chatting merrily with some witch. Tom scowled. Why was everyone do damn joyous? Frankly, it was sickening.

His fork clattered onto his plate and he stood, not intending to spend another minute in the Great Hall. Avery would just have to get over it.

Unfortunately for Tom, in order to get to the back of the hall where the exit was, he had to walk past the entirety of the Slytherin table, and his housemates had no desire to leave him alone. He heard the jeers – ' _mudblood'_ hissed under their breath, lips curling as if they smelt something rotten and malicious smiles painted on some of the more sadistic older teens. Tom shuddered to postulate on what they were thinking, or worse, _planning_.

Some of the less original students stuck out their feet in hopes that Tom would trip over them, but Tom was all too used to such ways from his time at the orphanage, and snuck around them nimbly. However, he was less prepared for the jinxes some of the more audacious students cast his way. He'd ducked a few, reacting out of shock, but had been hit by a fair few as well. He was wiser than to stay and retaliate, knowing that he was outrageously outnumbered and wouldn't want to be expelled, and so by the time he had left the Great Hall, his hair was fluorescent pink and he was slowly losing sensation in his legs, heels awkwardly scuffling along the floor.

His exit was accompanied by quiet chuckles from the snake house, and indifference from the others. Everyone hated Slytherin, and everyone in Slytherin hated Tom. He couldn't win.

"Need any help?"

A Hufflepuff, around third to fourth year was looking down at him with pity, her friends trying to pull her away and eyeing Tom was disdain. Tom's first reaction was to dismiss her, return her friends' sneers and reply that he didn't need any help. That thought however was shoved to the side – he _did_ need help, he didn't know the counters to these spells and he didn't want to wait for them to wear off. Even if it did mean that he had to rely on someone else's help.

God, he would now owe _two_ people.

He nodded stiffly, answering before he could think more on his decision, ignoring the sensation of his pride being trampled on and intimately aware of his shaking knees as his legs continues to weaken. The girl smiled, dark black curls tossing around her head as she walked closer to him, drawing a honey-coloured wand from her bag. Tom was unnaturally still as she pointed it at him, muscles tense and ready for flight, magic rearing at his fingertips and the sensation of butterflies in his stomach.

" **Finite Incantatem** ," she intoned, her wand flicking and moving in simple motions. Tom instantly felt his legs strengthen and he stood straighter, and at the same time he felt his hair going static, as if charged. He clutched a loose curl of hair and brought it in front of his eyes, and sighed in relief when it was back to a healthy brown.

"Thank you," Tom said warily, waiting for the demands that would follow. He didn't like the situation of being in another's debt, but he couldn't avoid the fact that he now owed people – to go back on his word would mean tarnishing his already diminished reputation.

"You're welcome, have a good day now!" The Hufflepuff called, walking off with her friends.

"Wait!"

They turned around, looking at him oddly. Tom floundered.

"What do you want? In return, I mean, for helping me with this…"

He pointed to his newly de-spelled hair.

The girl's face softened.

"I don't want anything in return. Sometimes it's just nice to help someone out without expecting a reward, you know?"

Tom didn't know, but he nodded anyway, staring at the space where the gaggle of girls had been even after they left. They had been so different to the Slytherins…kinder, _nicer_. But they were nothing like him – he was a Slytherin, no matter what Orion hinted, and he couldn't fathom going out of his way to help someone he didn't know. Hell, he wouldn't help someone he _did_ know without getting something out of it in return.

Nagini didn't count, because she was helping him. They had come to an understanding, a trade of sorts. Come to mention it, Tom still owed her… and now he was at Hogwarts, it was the perfect opportunity for Tom to start looking up some information on her master – and hopefully, lack of.

The answer to all his current problems seemed to lie in the library.

Problem: he didn't know where it was.

There was nothing for it but to wander around and hope for the best – do some exploring and get a vague sense of the castle at the same time.

Tom chose a corridor that led away from the Great Hall and was in the opposite direction to the Slytherin dungeons – he didn't want to run into any of his housemates. Not when he hadn't yet properly developed his arsenal. He walked along beside the walls, leaving less angles for a surprise attack, eyes peeled and darting in both directions down the corridor – out of the safety of the professors' close gaze, he knew that his housemates would be less hesitant to do worse than pink hair.

He masked his footsteps by stepping lightly on his toes – not tiptoeing, but not letting the full weight of his heels touch the ground. He supposed that he must look odd – sneaking around the school like he was up to no good, but Tom knew that his odd actions were fully justified – and in the past, his paranoia had paid off greatly. Just ask Billy's rabbit – they had never managed to pin its sudden disappearance on him, or more appropriately, Nagini.

A crowd of Ravenclaws passed him by, but either didn't care for him or were to absorbed in their discussion on runic arrays to give him any more than a passing glance. Tom made a note to look up runic arrays in the library as well – it sounded interesting.

The corridors were mostly desolate with the majority of the school at breakfast or in their common rooms, making the most of the free day, and so only a few students ambled past him by as he continued through the halls, eventually finding himself in front of a grand staircase. With nothing else for it, and the knowledge that the Slytherin common room was _down_ and not _up_ , he made his way up the staircase. He was halfway up the second staircase when it shifted under his feet, stones grinding against each other in a practiced motion, and he nervously held onto a bannister as the stairs positioned themselves in another direction.

Half of him was in sheer awe at the spectacle, the other half of him wanted to get off the staircase before it decided to chuck him off. Still holding onto the bannister with one supporting hand, he walked up the rest of the steps and pushed against a heavy oak door, the wood creaking as it swung open. The second floor's corridor was quiet, and he started to wander down, eyes out for indications of a library. He wished that the school had thought to give students a map of the school, and not simply leave them to their own devices. What if he got lost on his way to class? What if he couldn't find his class? It wasn't as if anyone would help him.

Tom sat down in a window's alcove, the carved stone was cold but left him largely hidden from the rest of the corridor in case anyone decided to stroll past. He leaned his head against the stone, peering out the window at the school's grounds. In the distance he could see a forest – a forbidden forest, if the headmaster's speech last night had been anything to go by, and he wondered what sort of things might be lurking in its depths to make it so dangerous.

He hadn't really thought about it before, but if magic was real, then surely there might be magical creatures as well? He'd guessed for some time that Nagini was not an ordinary snake, for no normal snake would eat as often as she did or grow to be so massive. In addition, her colouring, shape, and characteristics did not match the specifications of any snake species he knew – and she was far more intelligent than the rest. So, if his hypothesis were true and Nagini was some magical variety, then did other animals have magical counterparts?

Were there magical horses that could run for days on end, magical fish that could breathe out of water, magical birds that could grow to be ten feet tall? No, he was being ridiculous. It would be obvious if there were – they would not be able to hide anything like that from the muggles. _The muggles_ – he liked the sound of that; it showed that he was different from them. They must be a different species, even. Tom swore that he could never go back to that sort of life, a life where he was _nobody_. Here, he had the potential to become somebody, somebody other people couldn't help but look up to and admire, worship, _fear_.

But he needed to prove himself.

He leaned closer to the window, head brushing against the cold glass and he squinted his eyes at the forest. Maybe there were real magical creatures, the ones in the fairy tales that the girls at the orphanage used to read. Maybe there were fairies and unicorns, dragons and griffins, but maybe there were hags, werewolves, vampires and goblins?

Tom realised abruptly how little he knew about the world he had found himself in. At this rate, he'd be spending the whole of his first year in the library.

If he could find it, that is.

Tom went back out into the corridor, only the fogged panes of glass showing that someone had been in that alcove. He'd have to ask someone – maybe another Hufflepuff who wouldn't ask for anything in return – he certainly would not want to ask a Slytherin. In fact…yes, there were alcoves all along the corridor, and he could slip into any one of them if he spotted a green and silver tie.

He almost wanted to laugh at how weak he was in this world, how ironic it was that he was stuck at the bottom of the food chain, so used to being the apex predator that he had forgotten how to be prey. What was the point of him being here? Would his life really be so much better, the outcast of society and the punchline of all jokes? He knew the answer – magic. Magic was why he had come here. But that fierce rebuttal against leaving Hogwarts and never returning was growing weaker by the second, twisting into something bitter and desperate.

Was this it? Was he doomed to be desperately reliant on the help of the odd kind Hufflepuff, and cursed to avoid his fellow housemates for seven years in the fear that they would attack the second he let his guard down?

No – he could not live like this, he was better than this. He was better than all of them. He, who could cast wandless and wordless magic before starting Hogwarts – who could perform feats they couldn't comprehend before he even knew of wands.

Tom deflated, his steps slowing from the rapid tempo he had worked himself up towards. That could all wait for later, he'd plan once he had negotiated himself a better position on the playing field, when he finally stood a chance against his peers. Against Cygnus, Avery, Nott, and _Orion_. If they weren't with him, then they were against him – soon they'd be begging on their knees, crawling towards him with fear in their eyes and he'd _laugh_ …

"Excuse me, do you know where the library is?" Tom asked, eyes wide and hopeful, looking up pleadingly at a Gryffindor youth who had just appeared around the corridor's bend. The red-haired teenager scratched his neck, looking down at Tom bewilderedly.

"Ummm, yeah…" The boy mumbled, getting over the fact that a Slytherin first year was asking him for help.

"It's on the third floor, so just go up the stairs and you'll get there."

Tom thanked the teen, before walking determinedly back to that wretched staircase, leaving a bemused teenager in his wake. Plans were starting to be put into motion, raw ideas forming in his head and his magic cackled alongside him. In the empty corridor, Tom smiled, the satisfied smirk hinting of events to come, and a necessary change in the Slytherin hierarchy.

Preferably, with him on top.


	15. Hit 'em quick, get out fast

_:parseltongue:_

 _Latin - (yeah, you read that right) (don't worry it's only minimal)_

* * *

Nagini shifted restlessly, trying to stretch out in the limited space underneath the bed, but ultimately failing. Her muscles were tense from the lack of movement, the urge to bolt tingling down her spine and persistently lingering in the corners of her mind, the primal instinct to _move_ squashed down by her grudging respect for the speaker. The stone underneath her scales was deathly cold, sapping all warmth and energy from her being and the unforgivingly hard surface provided no reprieve for rest. _Rest_. Nagini was stuck in a limbo between the visceral desire to move and the inability to sleep.

Her speaker should have been more prepared. He should have anticipated this eventuality, he should have known that Nagini could not remain hidden at Hogwarts. Surely he did not forget that such a grand snake, so impressively long and magnificent, would be impossible to hide? Did he honestly expect her to stay here all the time? Nagini should have known that her speaker, who she knew to be silly and foolish, would not be able to appropriately accommodate her needs.

Her old master would have.

Nagini flinched. _Old_. Did she already consider her master to be naught but a thing of the past? Had she moved on from him without conscious knowledge? No, he would always be her master, and she would always be his snake. Nothing and no one could come between them – not even the boy.

Guilty thoughts stirred restlessly in her mind, competing for her attention and Nagini twitched uneasily, trying to both deny them and appease them at the same time. She had been disloyal to her master; she should have tried harder to seek him out, to re-join him. It had been unfair of her to expect her master to put all the work in, with her lazing around like a lazy serpent, waiting for her master to come pick her up. Had she missed her chance for a reunion? Had this been a test – had he been testing her loyalty?

Nagini didn't know what to think. She didn't believe that her master had been aware of her travelling with him to that ministry, or whatever it was called, but she didn't doubt that he could have known either. Her master knew _everything_. If he did know that she had snuck along, that she had got lost and entered the burning room, surely he would know where she was now?

Why didn't he come for her? Nagini wasn't usually one for self-pity, but the thought of her master willingly abandoning her did something uncomfortable to her heart, as if it were being constricted in the same manner as which she strangled her rabbits.

Nagini's own rabbit that the speaker had fed her earlier was steadily moving through her system, a large bulge crawling down her neck and exciting her stomach. The rabbit's strength became Nagini's, and she already felt energised by the mere thought of her downed prey settling inside of her. She needed to _do_ something – she needed to find her master…

The speaker had promised to assist her. However, he had shown no signs of doing so thus far. Nagini would have to remind him, and if he refused then nothing would keep her here in this school. She'd live homeless on the streets before she grew used to the idea of a new, different master.

Her master… how she missed him. The boy had nothing on him. The boy was soft, squishy, made of fragile human flesh and bone, and squeaked with an assortment of cowardly noises. He laughed, cried, hissed, and spat. Her master was above all those – he had grown accustomed to the way of the serpent and had shed his tainted human skin for the steely strength of the snake's, shedding his hair and other mortal afflictions for the efficiency and beauty of his own creation, smooth and pale and dangerous.

He'd scorned his human eyes long ago – long before she'd met him, and now two crimson bloodstains echoed in the back of his sockets, two deadly and fierce jewels residing where his eyes had previously been. Nagini admired him so badly it hurt, and the desperate longing to be with him once again burned through her scales and chocked her airway. If snakes could cry, Nagini would have.

* * *

Tom stilled, and would have tried to calm his breathing if he had remembered how to breathe. He had been teetering at the edge of unconsciousness, eyelids drooping over bloodshot eyes and head slowly nodding down to the desk, his spidery chicken scratch looming closer as his face started to press wearily against the table. However, when his eyes had finally fluttered closed they were not met by a familiar darkness, but pulsing red.

It wasn't the indiscernible red of light through skin with the back of his eyelids providing a myriad of jumping patterns and spots to focus on, but instead it was cold and hard, clean-cut and polished, two sanguine drops staring back at him. Tom gulped, his eyes now open and his body stiffly upright, but everything was in darkness apart from those two glowing eyes.

"Voldemort," he murmured, the name falling off his tongue not of his own volition. It had been if someone else had used his mouth, spoken for him and he was just a passenger in his own body. The feeling quickly passed however, but Tom would admit to a burgeoning unease. His eyes were gazing sightlessly ahead, still trapped by the crimson vision, and the previous hushed chatter of the library was muted, as if he was hearing it through water.

Who was Voldemort? Was he the owner of these two startling scarlet eyes?

Tom instinctually knew that he was correct, the same way he knew that Voldemort was a 'who' and not a 'what'. Tom noticed with increasing panic that he could not move his arms, they were draped by his side, loose and tight at the same time, and Tom tried to ignore the dulling numbness seeping through his body, a cold sensation running over and through him like icy water. He tried to scrabble for something to hold, willing his arms to move but they remained stubbornly lifeless. He was detached from the west of the world, his senses blocked, with only the alarming eyes in front of him to focus on.

Had someone cast a curse on him? Was it another Slytherin? Would they really have dared, especially when he was in full view of everyone else in the library?

Tom hoped it would stop. He could no longer feel his lungs shifting in his chest, could no longer remember which way was up, as if he were no longer tethered to the mortal plane. He cursed himself for not starting his notes on counter spells, and just focusing on offensive curses and basic wizarding history; he knew that he was utterly out of his depth. The academic in Tom briefly noted that it must be an impressive magical construction to render him completely helpless to the external environment, and he resolved to investigate the spell as soon as he came to. If it was a spell, that is.

After what seemed like eons, but in reality was probably no more than thirty seconds, Tom blinked, and the library returned. The sounds which were muted and muffled now sharpening and the lowly rumble of the other students' chatter reaching his ears once again. Tom flexed his fingers, relieved that they were still working as his eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness. His mind was replaying the shocking image, and echoing the name he had uttered. He knew with instinctual certainty that it was the name attached to those eyes.

Tom was so tense that he could be mistaken for a corpse in _rigor mortis_ , skin sallow and a cold sweat breaking out on his forehead as the reality of the situation crashed around him and he was left reeling with the aftermath of his episode. His hands were trembling, he noticed with morbid fascination, and at some point he had knocked his inkwell over and the oily black ink was now streaking across his parchment and engulfing his scrawled notes. A hand rose robotically and righted the pot of ink, and he placed another piece of parchment on top of the first, hoping that the majority of the spilt ink would be absorbed into that and stop polluting his writings.

His eyes flittered around the library, landing on the other students and their normal faces – they did not look afraid, or act like they had been blinded a few seconds earlier. So, it had just been him then.

A memory tugged on the edge of his thoughts, the remembrance of the last unbidden images that had played across his mind. The man, the lord he had imagined himself as… could that nightmare be related to this vision? Could it even be related to the bloodied rabbit?

Was this usual for wizards? Was it normal to have dreams in sleep and near-sleep of gruesome images, to imagine yourself as someone else and be haunted by lurid red eyes?

Tom knew that it could not be. This was crossing the line – magic could do many things, but to hasten on one's own insanity could not be one of them. Was it so impossible to believe that no one would have told Tom that such visions were to be expected?

He groaned, hypotheses and predictions wrapping around and tying themselves into knots in his head. He would have to investigate further into this – it was no coincidence, there must be a reason behind these visions and he should try to inhibit them before they got worse. Next time, they might spark into existence when he was fully conscious – and that was a vulnerability he would not allow himself. Christ, he could imagine it now – his classmates would not hesitate to curse him five ways to hell and back. However, that could be done later. He had more pressing matters now.

He dragged a tome from the stack of books he had selected, and rubbed the dust of the cover. It had been in some shadowed corner of the library that didn't receive sunlight, and the books it sheltered didn't appear to have ever seen some either. It had been collecting dust for so long that the pages were sticking together, and Tom had to dig his nails in to pry them apart – after his hands had stopped shaking. The spine cracked and his fingertips brushed against the pages and he leafed through, tracing over the handwritten paragraphs, the style of writing so old and looping that it was almost indecipherable.

However, this book had been referenced in _scūta ērigēns_ , which had cited it as genius in its theoretical conjectures on defensive magic. Tom didn't want to learn spells – he would have stuck to the first book if he wanted that. No, Tom wanted an understanding of the magic itself, which he could then reproduce without the strict requirements for casting a spell. He figured that if he could emulate offensive magic from Nagini's teachings in the past year, then surely it would be easier now he had a wand?

His flicking stopped when he reached a promising chapter. Grey eyes, still excessively dilated and bloodshot, avidly scanned the page and Tom devoured the words with alacrity, only stopping to clarify the words when the handwriting became too indecipherable. His right hand absently scribbled key points on a spare piece of parchment, and Tom noticed that this form of magic required a great deal of willpower and intent to work. Well, Tom could certainly muster up some feeling of _need_ when the time came, and that time would be soon.

Indeed, the brief excerpt of the tome he had just read had been more than helpful. He just needed to imagine his magic as manifesting physically, and mould it as he desired and will it to be impenetrable to spells and tangible objects alike. The real trouble would be in keeping it up, but Tom didn't doubt for a second that he'd tire. He had been using magic consciously for the last year, and he approached exhaustion less and less frequently as time went on.

Mind firmly set and decision made, he gathered up his unspoilt parchment and stuffed it into his briefcase, rejecting the ink-laden sheet and leaving it behind on the desk for someone else to clean up. There was nothing incriminating on it – just some brief notes on protective spells from the _scūta ērigēns_ book.

He wasn't sure what picture he made as he left the library – hair messed up and skin pale and glistening. Tom knew he probably looked like death. He felt like it, too.

Even with the stairs of Hogwarts doing their utmost to trip him us and confuse him, Tom's mind was not so addled that he lost his way. He was fortunate that it did not take a stiver of his mental faculty to go through the motions of walking, for the majority of it was devoted to plotting. He already knew that it was imperative to make a show of power to Slytherin house, and this recent problem only hastened the need for such an act. He had to establish himself as a formidable force as soon as he could, before it was too late. Before he was reduced to being the Slytherin target for eternity.

When Tom entered the common room, the muttering started up again. The students, spanning all age groups and social statuses made no move to hide it – they talked openly, sending pointed stares his way. At least Slytherin had achieved its idealistic united front, all they had needed was a common enemy.

And who was Tom to deter them? Let it not be said that he did not give the people what they want.

He smiled, grimly, the sort of smile one makes before it all goes to hell.

 _:Nagini, I know you're there.:_

* * *

 ** _*scūta ērigēns_** **, with** ** _scūta_** **in the accusative plural form of** ** _scūtum,_** **and** ** _ērigēns_** **in the present particle form of** ** _ērigō_** **.** **Literally translated to 'raising defences' or 'erecting shields' or whatever variation thereof.**


	16. World Turned Upside Down

_:parseltongue:_

* * *

Nagini knew she was supposed to remain under the bed, out of sight, in accordance with her speaker's wishes. And she would have, for as much as she disliked lying in such a cramped and constricting place, she was oddly reluctant to disobey the boy, much to her dismay. However, as she attempted to settle down on the cold stones once again, she became aware of an itch growing in the back of her mind.

It started off as tickle, light and teasing, before increasing in presence and scratching restlessly behind her eyes, as if it were a swarm of angry bees struggling to escape and stinging her without concern.

Nagini hissed, a stream on nonsensical sounds torn from her throat. She threw her head around carelessly, shaking it from side to side, as if she could dislodge whatever was causing the problem. It didn't work, of course, and Nagini stopped in favour of pressing her head firmly down onto the freezing stone floor, trying to numb the irritating pain.

Bitterly, she reminded herself that this was all the speaker's fault. If only he would have planned more efficiently, then she wouldn't have to remain trapped in this forsaken place, unable to find a reprieve for the stubborn prickling that was screaming for her attention.

Only, this sensation was familiar.

Nagini paused, latching onto that thought. It _was_ familiar – Nagini has memories of this irksome itch plaguing her before.

 _But where?_

Nagini knew she didn't have the best memory, but she was certain that this was important. It meant _something_. But why would she be feeling it now? She had only been thinking about her master –

Her master. This itch was related to her master – she was certain.

Her master was trying to communicate with her.

At that realisation Nagini could have wept, but she was not a sappy little hatchling and so she steeled her nerves, and calmed her fluttering heart. _Focus_ , Nagini. She would not let rampart emotion contaminate and pollute her master's message.

Even though it wasn't a message _per se_ , but an idea. An impulse.

And it was one she gladly followed.

Flashes of colour erupted across her vision – silky greens and shadowed blacks, with splatters of phantom red streaking across. A rustle of chatter grew in her ears, clipped mutterings that spat with that harsh and ugly language. Finally, a taste of bitter stone on her tongue and the scent of fear wafting through the air, her mouth warming at the premonition of blood rushing through it.

This was how they had always communicated – finally her master had reached out to her!

She slithered out from underneath the bed, her muscles somewhat creaking as they were finally able to stretch and she uncurled completely. She was drawn in one direction, disregarding her personal safety as she spirited herself across the dormitory, forked tongue flashing out and tasting the scents on the air.

Underneath her scales, she picked up the slightest vibrations, the promise of distant liveliness and activity. That was her destination.

She continued down unknown corridors, staying pressed against the walls and within the flickering shadows not reached by the light of the candelabras. The air was damp and saturated with moisture, the wall was cool against her scales and made of a scraping brittle rock. Nagini briefly wondered about the common sense of wizards and their ridiculous desire to make their dens underground, but dismissed the thought as soon as it came. She had better things to think upon.

When she reached an ajar door at the end of the corridor, her pupils constricting against the harsh light stabbing through the cracks, she hesitated.

Would her master lie beyond this door?

Was this the end?

Nagini strained to hear through the muffled sounds drifting into the desolate corridor, hoping to hear her master's clear voice slashing through the noise and clatter, calling for her by name. The itch grew stronger at the back of her mind, screaming at her, and it was if she was being pulled by invisible strings that she slipped around the door, entering the room.

Instantly, sounds assaulted her senses, busy and rushed and Nagini tried to flinch back, but she was still a mere marionette against her master's call. She slithered forwards, with miraculously no one noticing her for she was still hidden within a shadowed cranny. She took this time to cast dark eyes around the room, her natural instinct to assess and evaluate her new surroundings rising up and taking control.

The humans would be easy to pick off, but she wasn't too sure that her master would want her to draw attention. Unfortunately.

Nagini slipped under a sofa on the outskirts of the room, managing to coil her entire length under it. She could sense the wizards stirring above her, chatting quietly and she resigned herself to an even worse wait than the one underneath the bed. At least she had had more space there.

Luckily for her, her suffering did not last long because the door to the common room soon swung open, and all the Slytherins as one seemed to stop in their mutterings, a silence descending over the room's occupants.

Then a deriding jeer was thrown across the room, a battle cry for the students who were poised in anticipation. A raucous assault of scorn soon reached Nagini's ears, for whilst she had no desire to understand the language it was hard to miss the disdain leaking from the students' words.

Nagini cautiously leant forward, the bare tip of her nose poking out from under the sofa as she attempted to ascertain what the commotion was all about.

A familiar parseltongue drawl echoed around the room, silencing the Slytherins.

 _:Nagini, I know you're there.:_

It was the speaker.

Nagini could not express how heavy her heart felt with undeniable bitterness at that realisation.

She ignored the boy staring her way, ignored the startled shouts as she entered the left the sofa and came into full view in the light. A thin pink tongue flicked out to taste the air, but it was void of her master's unmistakable scent and her swooping eyes could not pinpoint his tall silhouette.

He was not there.

 _:Master… why have you called me here…:_

She did not notice how Tom's eyes flashed with confusion, his gaze running down her form in scrutiny.

 _:Nagini,:_ he hissed, revelling in the fresh thunder of exclamations that the parseltongue brought, _:come to me.:_

Nagini grumbled, her gaze dragging around the room once more for any clue that her master was here, before she slithered over to the speaker, head rearing up to be level with his.

 _:Speaker. What silly plight are you embarking on now?:_

Tom stroked her head, looking utterly ridiculous in Nagini's opinion, and crooned.

 _:We are teaching these fools a lesson.:_

There was another sharp intake of breath, and Nagini nodded in satisfaction. It was only appropriate that the other humans would marvel in appreciation at the beauty of parseltongue, and she briefly pitied them for being stuck with their foul language. Briefly. She didn't care that much, to be honest.

 _:And when did you decide this? I'm busy.:_

Nagini leant forward, scenting the perspiration adorning the speaker's skin and taking in the wild hair sticking out at odd angles from the speaker's head.

 _:You need to sleep more, Tom:_ she advised sagely, _:then you wouldn't be so stressed.:_

 _:Nagini:_ Tom hissed from between gritted teeth, _:the only thing stressing me right now is you.:_

 _:Rude.:_

Tom rubbed his eyes, all too aware that he was losing his audience. The Slytherins were watching him with a mix of caution, uncertainty, and a smattering of awe. The admiration was mostly from Orion, however, who had turned around when Tom entered the common room and had not yet picked his jaw up from where it had dropped on the floor.

It was, however, becoming quickly apparent that a few wiser Slytherins were recognising him for the threat he was and were not-so-subtly drawing their wands, whether they were digging into their pockets or the wands were shooting into their hands from wand holsters.

Tom mimicked their actions, his yew wand held loosely between his fingers, in a grip so delicate that it belied the strength of the magic straining to be let loose.

He straightened, stepping past Nagini as he walked deeper into the room towards the inner core of Slytherin's political system. He was silently thankful when Nagini had the sense to follow.

"I would caution you to think again before initiating something you will regret, Cygnus," Tom said coolly, dark grey eyes flicking to the ebony wand clasped in Black's grip. The third year was standing at the forefront of the group, the youngest but the one currently levelling their wand at Tom's neck.

"Perhaps," Cygnus replied in turn, silver eyes appraising Nagini who was raised impressively behind Tom, leaning over his shoulder. "But I'll take my chance. _Mudblood_."

Tom laughed, and caught the wary glances that a few students shared at Cygnus's words. "Mudblood? Surely you jest, Black – no _mudblood_ could speak this noble tongue."

Tom was bluffing, of course, for he was yet to attain proof that his and Nagini's hypothesis was true about the origins of parseltongue. He felt it was a safe bet, however, and judging by Cygnus's faltering sneer he was correct.

"Regardless, Riddle, your very name pollutes the air we breathe and raises a stink in our hallowed house. Parselmouth or not, it is time you learnt your place," Cygnus spat, and the others murmured in agreement.

Tom smirked, wasting no time. _:Nagini – attack.:_

 _:Not your slave:_ she managed to hiss out, but nevertheless Nagini did as he commanded and leapt at the third year, her thick body rapidly wrapping around Cygnus's scrambling form.

Tom barely noticed, for he was concentrating on maintaining the shield he had just raised, hot spurts of magic coalescing at the end of his wand and fuelling a thin barrier that was blocking the quick flurry of spells being sent his way.

He smiled, that shield wasn't half bad for a first try.

He locked his knees into a crouched position, making him less of a target and rooting himself steadily to the ground. He could feel his magic straining, and he cut the shield, rolling to the side as curses hissed past his ear and sparked on the floor.

He paused, kneeling, and turned open palms onto his group of attackers and a torrent of pulsing red light shot at them, an unavoidable flood of raw magic.

The Slytherins were thrown backwards, falling strewn across the floor and sofas, some groaning but others leaping to their feet with their brows set in a hardened expression.

Tom threw an array of curses at the group, picking them off and dodged the spells sent his way, flashes of light streaking across the common room. With one hand he held his yew wand, shooting off jets of fierce lights and cursing the Slytherins, and with his other hand he erected a partial shield, which he swung around to block the incoming curses.

He span around, almost dancing, a tornado of magic reflecting the other student's spells.

Behind him, Tom could hear the shocked whispers at his display of wandless magic, and internally sneered at the Slytherins. Did they never bother to learn magic without their wand? What if they were disarmed?

A stream of sickly yellow light shot towards Tom, creeping over the edge of his shield, and hit him in the side. His chest locked up, his lungs stiffening and sharp pains crackled over his ribs. Tom gasped, his breath choking in his throat and as his shield dropped and he jabbed a finger at the boy who had cast the spell, not even bothering to watch when the Slytherin fell to the floor, screaming.

 _Idiot_. A duel was not the time and place to start reviewing the other students' magical education, or lack of.

Tom hissed, not in parseltongue, but a voice to his pain that was paralysing his chest. He didn't know the bloody counter-curse. He hadn't anticipated anyone getting a hit in.

He clenched his jaw, casting a surveying eye over the other students. Most were watching from the side lines, and the ones who had turned their wands against him were staring in fear at the writhing boy on the floor, legs and arms flailing as Tom's torture curse flooded his system.

Tom wiped his mouth, frowning as a trail of blood stained the back of his hand. He hardly dared to breathe right now, his chest seized up and weighing a ton. Well, if he didn't know the counter…

Tom sent a burst of magic towards his lungs, grimacing as the energy violently snapped the curse and he gulped down lungfuls of air, the curse broken. He wouldn't be making that mistake again.

 _:Can I let go now?:_ Nagini whined behind him, and he turned, observing the twelve-foot snake completely enshrouding Cygnus so that not an inch of skin was visible underneath her scales.

 _:Yes. I believe he's grasped the point.:_

Nagini let out a sigh of relief, and loosened around the pureblood who was so exhausted that he just dropped straight onto the floor, not possessing the energy to even raise his wand against Tom.

"Let this be a lesson to you all," Tom spoke, finally lifting the curse off the boy and smirking as all eyes returned to him. "You are nothing but the dirt beneath my feet."

"This isn't the end, mudblood," spat an unknown boy, and Tom only chuckled in return.

"Was that a challenge?"

The boy shook his head, stepping back. Tom sneered, waving his wand around in a senseless circular motion and grinning when they all flinched back.

 _:Let's go, Nagini.:_

 _:Finally. This was not at all entertaining, speaker.:_

 _:Shut up.:_

Boy and snake left the common room, the door swinging shut behind them.

The Slytherins looked at each other, some with haggard breaths and others battling conflicting thoughts.

"So, he's the heir of Slytherin?" one fourth year girl spoke up, unyielding against the smouldering glare that a few sent her way.

"He's no Slytherin," a sixth year scoffed, but not many were nodding with him. "No heir of Slytherin would be sullied by filthy muggle blood."

A murmur of agreement rippled through the room.

"But he's really powerful! You all saw that wandless magic – what he did to Aaron…"

They were silent at that, eyes drawn back to the shivering boy on the ground, who was battling the aftershocks of Tom's curse.

Yes, maybe Tom Riddle was someone worth fearing.


	17. Young and dreamed of Glory

_:parseltongue:_

* * *

Tom woke slowly, his mind gently prying itself away from a slumberous embrace. Warm colours pulsed before his eyelids, and as he cracked them tiredly open he saw the rippling green light of the lake swim across the dormitory, falling lightly through the window which replaced one of their walls. A hand sleepily rubbed at his eyes, massaging the blurriness out and he stretched his legs, toes curling as he relaxed in the warmth beneath his covers.

The memories of the previous night slowly trickled in and Tom quickly sobered up.

Everything had gone perfectly – almost _too_ well – apart from the slight hiccough had with the curse one boy had got past his shields. He tried not to let that bother him too much, however, for he had sought his sweet retribution.

Indeed, the boy's mellifluous screams still echoed in his ears.

Tom knew that he had been lucky. He had been a fool for taking on the other Slytherins without fully building up an arsenal of curses and counter-curses to employ against them, naively relying on his past experiences with magic to compensate against their magical education. This was a world where the use of spells was a skilled and honed craft, almost similar to a style of fighting, and he'd charged in expecting brute force to carry him through.

He wouldn't make that mistake again.

He hoped he wouldn't need to make that mistake again.

When that bilious yellow light had struck his ribcage, it had been with such force that he was surprised his ribs hadn't cracked or at least been dented, and he knew that he had made a miscalculation.

The pain had been intense, crippling, spasms bubbling up to his shoulders and wrapping around torso, a nauseous unease rising in his stomach and threatening to unload. Only now, when the adrenaline fuelled fog had cleared from his mind did he realise what an imbecile he had been. Tom grimaced, mentally berating himself for acting so rashly and on an impulse – for no matter his reason, he should have bided his time a little longer, vision or no vision.

He'd allowed three of his cards to be shown, which was inexcusable. Now everyone would know about Nagini, his parseltongue ability, and his aptitude for wandless magic, if he could call it that.

For in actuality, his only real display of wandless magic had been when he tortured the boy. When he had lifted the curse constricting his chest, and when he unleashed a burning flood of magic onto the Slytherins, he hadn't been subvocalising any spell or wishing for a particular effect. Yes, he had wanted to attack the other students and heal his chest but the magic he used wasn't any he had known beforehand… it almost acted with its own mind.

He may have pondered and struggled over this problem for a little longer, but he already knew what it had happened. He had used pure magic – magic in its raw and potent form – not once, but _twice_. It had been as if he had been acting on instinct, and that scared Tom slightly.

Tom didn't _know_ how to utilise raw magic. He had never learnt about it or practiced it at the orphanage. Sure, he'd studied the bare theory of defensive magic in the library just before he stormed to the common room, but that didn't equate to the sudden rush and power he wielded in using the untainted magic… and it had come so naturally to him. Even Tom, a self-proclaimed genius, admitted that should not have been able to perform such magical feats. He hadn't even started his classes yet.

Nevertheless, it had helped him; his chest still ached with a lingering pain but his lungs were no longer shrivelling in his chest. He knew he would have to research what had happened further, but that was a problem for another day.

His lessons started today.

Tom kicked the serpent lying coiled at the end of his bed, before lifting himself up and propping himself upright on the bed with his hands as the duvet fell to the side.

 _:Nagini, wake up.:_

Nagini made no signs of movement, and Tom rolled his eyes. God, she was such a lazy snake.

At this moment Tom became thankful for the green velvet hangings enshrouding his bed which he quickly drew across, for he wouldn't have wanted his roommates to see as he crawled over to the other end and started hissing nonsense in Nagini's ears. He'd only just started to cultivate their respect, after all.

Tom quickly grew impatient, and scrutinised the snake huddled up in a tight coil, her head resting in the centre of the spiral. He flicked her head with his fingers, shook her roughly, yet she still wouldn't budge.

 _:I swear to God, Nagini stop playing around and wake up…:_

Nagini didn't respond.

Most of the time, this would have been the _exact_ opposite of a problem. Nagini was a fine snake – he admitted it – but most of the time she loved to hear herself prattle on about whatever latest inane topic had captured her interest. Most of the time it was about food: mice, rats, rabbits, more rabbits….

Hell, if Tom had to listen to her pine away for the rabbit saturated forestlands she often dreamed about one more time, Tom would tie her jaws shut with string, with the twine cutting into her scales so deeply that should he ever cut it off it would leave permanent scarring and malformation.

Now, however, he wouldn't mind listening to one of Nagini's obscene spiels that were embellished with graphic details about her ideal rabbit-hunt, if only she would reassure him that she was indeed lucid and conscious. Tom didn't want to be dealing with a dead or crazed snake, although he was already working with an assumption of the latter.

A sense of unease lurked in the back of his mind, growing uncomfortably and he tried to squash down a rapidly rising panic.

Because Tom had been shaking and calling out to her for the last five minutes and she'd yet to show any response.

This was not her usual recalcitrant behaviour, where she'd get the silly idea into her head that Tom was someone she could disobey or maliciously mock, because Nagini didn't have the strength of will to hold out against Tom this long. Usually she gave up on her sulky strops after he made an offhand comment about rabbits and then all thoughts of disobedience vanished – she was ridiculously easy to please if one alluded to the gift of rabbits in the near future.

This time however, Nagini wasn't jolting awake and pressing Tom to deliver on his promise of rabbits.

 _:Nagini, I will give you two whole rabbits if you talk to me right now…:_

Tom was reluctant to jump to conclusions and assume that there was some sinister reason why Nagini wasn't waking up or showing any signs of life in general – he was already acting like a frantic mother as it was and he didn't want to become ridiculously worked up if it just turned out that Nagini was a heavy sleeper.

Even though he knew she wasn't.

Maybe she was still exhausted from last night, albeit that she hadn't done too much… only looked intimidating and strangled Cygnus. Tom smiled, savouring the reminder of the boy's frightened face and struggling limbs. He bet Cygnus would think twice before turning his nose up at him now.

For all the time he had spent with her, Tom didn't know much about the general health of snakes. What little knowledge he did possess could be boiled down to avoiding Nagini once a month when she started shedding, for she was even more irritable than usual then. Tom shuddered – one time she had even asked him to peel some of her loose scales off, and that experience wasn't something he was going to forget in a hurry.

Tom squinted, appraising the snake. Nagini almost looked as if she was going to shed now – her eyes were dull and her scales weren't shining, but she hadn't shown any signs last night and she'd only just shed last week, so there must be something else at play.

Did snakes get ill? Was this some sort of bug or snake flu?

Tom absently stroked Nagini, running his fingers over her smooth scales and unconsciously chewing on his lower lip. It would be a pain if she was sick – Tom didn't know a thing about nursing anyone or anything back to health. At the orphanage, the matron would usually slap some iodine on scabs and cuts, and any children taken ill by the flu were quarantined in their bedrooms with their meals periodically shoved under the door.

Tom hated being sick, even though he thankfully didn't get ill very often, because none of the orphanage children would volunteer to deliver his supper and he'd often go hungry. The only person who made an effort to give him his meals and came to check on him was Martha, but she was a ditz and often forgot about him.

Tom wasn't sure this approach would work with Nagini – she would expect him to wait on her hand and foot. As if that would ever happen.

He wished she would wake up. Wished she would tell him how he was being silly and how he was a blithering idiot – which in fairness, he probably was. He shook her more forcefully, with such vigour that he almost toppled off the bed himself.

He lifted up the bottom of the hangings, peering through the gap at the dormitory and took note of the relative quiet. It appeared that they were all still asleep, which suited him just fine.

Even though they were all now aware of Nagini's existence, he would prefer to keep her sudden…tiredness hidden. If the Slytherins were anything like him, they'd be quick to exploit a weakness.

A weakness… could it be possible that one of them had cursed Nagini?

Tom wouldn't put it past any of his housemates to stoop to such a level, but he doubted that they would be so brazen to act directly after his display in the common room. Or maybe, that was exactly the reason why they decided to act…

The hangings moved on one of the other beds, and Tom could hear someone shuffling about. He muttered his apologies to the still unconscious Nagini, before slipping out of the bed and padding over the floor to the showers. He promised himself to check up on her at break.

* * *

Breakfast was an odd affair. It seemed that most of the Slytherins didn't know what to make of Tom, whether to act in fear or respect, or directly challenge him. In the end, most settled for ignoring him, which was perfectly fine in his opinion. He was too busy thinking about the potentially sick serpent lying in his bed to bother with their infrequent glances that burned with questions he wasn't going to answer.

Tom dropped a croissant onto his plate, reminding himself that the orange liquid in his goblet was not orange juice, but pumpkin juice and was to be avoided at all costs. He had just started lightly smearing butter onto his pastry when Orion Black plonked himself down beside him on the bench, leaning over to conspiratorially whisper in his ear.

"Tom, that was bloody brilliant last night."

Tom's lips quirked upwards, and he helped himself to a napkin to wipe off the butter that had become accidentally spread across his fingers. "Is that so?"

Orion nodded enthusiastically, snatching an apple from a bowl of fruit. "Absolutely. I didn't know you were that powerful, and I'm pretty sure everyone's a little shaken after that stunt. You were _terrifying_."

Tom's face remained impassive, but on the inside he was smirking with glee. "You don't appear to be _terrified_ , Black."

Orion laughed, slapping his hand on Tom's back as it were the funniest thing he'd heard. Tom glared at him.

"No, I suppose I'm not. You only attacked those who made a move against you first, after all, and I'd be an idiot to start something with you now knowing what I do."

Tom nodded tersely, even though he disagreed with Orion's words. He knew that he would have made a statement last night one way or the other, but it just so happened that they gave him an excuse when they drew their wands first.

Orion sobered a little, becoming serious and rested a hand on Tom's shoulder, who immediately brushed it off.

"You need to be careful, Tom. You painted a target on your back last night and there will be plenty of disgruntled Slytherins looking to take aim. You need to watch out."

Tom's eyes flashed but he held his tongue, resisting the urge to snap at Orion for _advising_ Tom.

"I'm aware," he uttered shortly. Orion shook his head.

"No, you're really not. Do you really think that all the Slytherins who have a bone to pick with you challenged you last night? We're Slytherins, Tom, most of us know better than to attack an enemy we know nothing about."

Tom bristled slightly, but kept listening.

"The ones you fought were only the tip of the iceberg. Plenty of the older ones simply watched, evaluating your fighting style, your skills, and storing the information away for future use. They probably won't even take a stand against you in the open – us Snakes fight dirty, and don't be surprised if you suddenly become the recipient of several authorless pranks."

Tom nodded, his mind racing back to Nagini. If Orion's words were true – and he knew they must be – then it certainly was possible for some disgruntled older student to sneak into his dormitory and curse Nagini with God knows what.

"You okay?"

Orion's voice brought him back from his thoughts. "Hmm?"

Orion shifted, uneasy. "You looked a little pale there, Tom. Has something happened?"

"No," he snapped, eyes narrowing. Any and all of the Slytherins could be potentially out to get him, Orion included. Suddenly the boy's overly-friendly nature appeared much more suspicious.

Tom was about to stand up and leave the hall when a hand clapped down on his shoulder, and he peered up to see a portly wizard staring down at the students. The wizard had a bald head, with pale green eyes flickering around and searching the Slytherin's faces, before resting on Orion and an odd smile stretched across his face. This was Horace Slughorn, his head of house who had made a weak introduction to them on their first night.

"Lovely to see you, Mr Black. I'm sure your Hogwarts career will be splendid."

Orion blushed under the praise, and Tom itched to shrug the man's hand off and bolt out of the Great Hall.

Slughorn cleared his throat, shifting over to assess Tom, eyeing him with something akin to pity. "Ah, yes, our resident muggleborn. Never fear, boy, for we'll soon whip you into shape and teach you how to act properly!"

Tom was surprised when he didn't punch the old man then and there.

Orion seemed to notice his flaring temper, for he quickly moved to distract the professor.

"Are those out timetables, sir?"

The wizard followed Orion's eyes to his right hand, and seemed surprised to find slips of paper there. "Yes, indeed! Eager to learn, are you? I'm glad to hear it."

Orion nodded, accepting his timetable with a mumbled 'thank you' and made to inspect his schedule. Tom didn't bother thanking the professor when he received his own, for he was sure that the second he opened his mouth he would start cursing the man.

Slughorn apparently saw it fit to trot off, and Tom brought his attention back to the parchment in his hands, and smiled.

His magical education had officially started.


	18. He plays and he raises the stakes

He hated Potions.

No, that wasn't quite right. He didn't hate Potions – he just hated the bloody Hufflepuffs giggling on the other side of the laboratory and he hated the Slytherins behind him who made no attempt to hide their sniggering. Even Orion, who had volunteered to be his lab partner, was struggling to cover up a growing smile behind his hands.

Slughorn, on the other hand, just shook his head in resignation and paid no attention to his students, eyeing Tom with a pitying expression. God, Tom hated it when people tried to _pity_ him.

"I'm afraid that's quite incorrect, Mr Riddle." Slughorn paused to wipe the sweat of his brow, flicking his wand at the flame beneath a cauldron. The flames shrank in size, and soon after the steam pouring out of the cauldron lessened in volume.

Slughorn produced a piece of chalk from his pocket, before ambling over to the blackboard.

"If you see here," Slughorn lectured, scratching the white chalk with practice ease, "there are four conditions to potion making you are expected to know. The first is temperature – can anyone tell me why?"

A few hands raised in the air, but Tom wasn't having any of it.

"Professor, with all respect, I don't see why magical plants are excluded from chemical laws. Surely the pH of potions must be taken into account?"

Another wave of laughter followed his statement, and Tom ignored the fact that the tips of his ears were surely burning red. Mentions of acidity hadn't been mentioned in the potions book he bought in Diagon Alley, but that was an old second-hand version and he had been certain that the magical world would have included the revised science in the newer editions. It only made sense, after all.

Apparently, he was wrong.

"Mr Riddle," Slughorn exclaimed incredulously, shocked that a student would speak out of turn, "this is neither the time nor place to – to debate muggle science!"

The wizard was being increasingly flustered, stumbling over his words, and although Tom knew that he should stop – for this would be a horrible first impression – he didn't much like being made a fool in front of his classmates.

"But surely, Professor, plants used in potions making would contain acidic compounds? Wouldn't they cause reactions within the potion that must be monitored and prepared for?"

Orion grabbed Tom's sleeve, trying to get his attention. "Shut up, Tom, you're making us look bad."

"There is no _us_ ," Tom murmured in return, keeping his eyes fixed on Slughorn. Tom knew he was right, but he was not about to become the laughing stock of the class. He simply refused.

"Nonsense! Mr Riddle, I'm afraid you are quite confused – which is to be expected, honestly, and not much of a surprise…"

Tom glowered as the man tapered off, and the sharp barks of Avery's laugh caused his fists to tighten around his quill. Orion cautiously moved Tom's inkpot out of reach, not that it would do much good. Tom still had easy access to his wand, after all, and it was practically begging to be let loose once more, the previous night having given it a taste for violence.

Slughorn coughed, and picked up his speech again. "The point is that this p thingy - "

"pH," Tom corrected, and Slughorn waved a hand in the air, dismissing the interruption.

"Whatever it is, it is not part of your Potions curriculum nor is it acknowledged by potioneers. Moving on – can anyone tell me a condition other than temperature which is considered a variable in potion making?"

Tom tuned Slughorn out in favour of Orion, who was speaking in hushed whispers.

"You really need to learn how to make first impressions, Tom. Cygnus told me – well, I sort of begged him for information – he told me that Slughorn's a bit soft in the head, you know?" Orion paused, casting a wary eye around the room and Tom did the same, noting that Slughorn was now adding ' _viscosity'_ to the chalkboard.

"He apparently has a lot of connections with old students – students that went on to become Quidditch stars or enter high-level positions in the Ministry. Think of him what you will, Tom, but it would be worth gaining the man's favour."

Tom mused over Orion's words, acknowledging the validity of them. "How would one go about earning his favour, then?"

Orion leaned closer to Tom, apparently believing that the information given to him by Cygnus was sensitive in nature, which Tom wasn't about to dispute. He would need any advantage he could get.

"Well, firstly he tends to seek out connections with purebloods from old and ancient houses, or purebloods from an otherwise successful family or high ministerial ranking," Orion said, flushing slightly.

"And that would be you, I take it?" Tom pressed and Orion nodded, affirming the assumption.

"He also goes after students who are talented – and not just in Potions. It could be Charms, Transfiguration – even Quidditch!"

"Sorry, but what is Quidditch? You mentioned it earlier," Tom interjected, and Orion looked downright scandalised.

"What's Quidditch? You don't know what Quidditch is?" Orion repeated, his voice rising.

"Shut up, Black. No one cares about that stupid game." Avery called from behind them, and Tom craned his head round to see the boy meticulously copying down notes from the blackboard and paying sharp attention to Slughorn's words. Tom smiled, teasing the boy.

"Touchy, Avery?"

Avery sneered, and the boy sitting next to him - whose name Tom hadn't bothered to learn – scowled but nevertheless seemed apprehensive about arguing against Tom. Well, at least something good had come out of last night's debacle.

Orion frowned, shuffling his stool around to get a better look at Avery. "But you _like_ Quidditch. We always used to play it all the time at your manor."

Avery glared at Orion, and Tom raised his eyebrows enquiringly. "Telling lies, Avery?"

"Shut it, Riddle," Avery hissed, and Tom could only laugh in return, a familiar glee alighting as Avery became further wound up.

"Or what? Going to hex me? I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Avery's hands slipped into his robes, and Orion stiffened, pulling Tom back away from the bench behind them. "Don't start something here, Tom, for Morgana's sake!"

"I hope there isn't a problem there, boys," Slughorn called out, only now cottoning on to the fact that half his class were engaging in a staring contest of sorts.

"No, Professor," Orion answered, finally dragging Tom back around to face the right direction again. "Tom just dropped his quill, that's all."

"Right," Slughorn said suspiciously, pale eyes glancing down at the quill on their desk. Tom didn't say anything, challenging the professor.

"Well, in that case Mr Black, perhaps you would like to inform us all of another property of potions we must consider?"

"Err…" Orion faltered, racking his brains, "concentration?"

Slughorn beamed. "Excellent! Especially when we prepare solutions, and use more ingredients in their liquid forms – say, Horklump juice – the concentrations may vary at different apothecaries if they prepare dilutions of - "

Tom turned his attention back to Orion. "So, Quidditch?"

"Oh, I suppose we sort of got a little sidetracked there. Well, umm, Quidditch is a sport played on brooms - "

"Brooms?" Tom cut in, not believing his ears. _Brooms?_ Surely he must have heard wrong.

"Flying brooms? You know, like the Tinderblast? Comet 180?"

At Tom's blank look, Orion groaned, his head dropping into his hands. Tom could hear a string of muffled words cursing Tom's existence and he was quite affronted, before he conceded that he too was bitter over his upbringing and wished he had been raised with the knowledge of these wizarding terms.

Orion quickly got over his brief shock, and lifted his head back up to face Tom.

"Quidditch is a sport played on flying brooms, and each team has three Chasers, two Beaters, a Keeper and a Seeker. The balls consist of a Quaffle - "

"Spare me the details, Black, just telling me that it was a ridiculous sport would have been enough."

Orion huffed. "It's not ridiculous!"

Tom hummed, not bothering to entertain a debate with the other boy. Slughorn had now moved on to explain how they should handle their potions equipment, and unlike the theory, Tom knew that he needed to pay attention. Experience couldn't be learnt from a textbook.

* * *

It was in their History of Magic class that Tom Riddle heard the name Grindelwald again.

The professor – Binns, as his timetable had stated – wasn't the one to bring the name up, however. It had been one of the Ravenclaws.

Tom had tried to listen to the professor at first, but the old man's droning voice and bland tone had a strong soporific effect and Tom's head grew heavier and heavier throughout the first thirty minutes of the lesson, almost touching the desk by the time that Binns moved onto the next Goblin leader.

It was only when his fellow students starting heaving their heavy tomes onto their desks that he took notice, blearily blinking his eyes and smothering a yawn behind the back of his hand.

"What are they doing?" he asked Orion, and the boy startled awake before glancing over at the Ravenclaw girls who were studiously ignoring the professor and leafing through their books.

Orion rubbed his eyes, and Tom noticed a splatter of ink stretching across the boy's face from where he had fallen asleep on his notes. "I suppose they've decided to teach themselves. Can't say I blame them, Binns has the sort of voice that could put even a dragon to sleep."

Tom hummed, before leaning over his desk to have a better look at their books.

"Do you mind?"

A girl with a snobby air about her was staring at him in irritation, one hand possessively clutching her textbook.

Tom immediately adopted a more curious expression, eyes wide and made an effort to look sheepish. "Oh, sorry – I was just interested in what you were reading instead of listening to Binns. I don't want to miss out on anything."

The girl's face softened, and she pushed her book slightly over so Tom could see it clearer. "It's about powerful wizards and witches of the 20th century," the girl paused, shrugging her shoulders. "While not technically on the curriculum, I find it more interesting than whatever Binns is spouting."

Tom nodded, certainly sharing sympathies with the Ravenclaw.

"So, who is the most powerful?"

"I'm sorry?"

The girl seemed confused, and Tom smiled apologetically. "The most powerful wizard – or witch," he hastily added. "Who is it?"

The girl frowned, chewing her lip. "There's not a ranking for this sort of thing, exactly, but I suppose in terms of magical power and influence…maybe Grindelwald?"

"Grindelwald?" Tom echoed, certain that he had heard that name before. "Who's that?"

The girl eyed him oddly, clearly thinking that he was some sort of idiot. "The man who wants to be a Dark Lord? The one currently infuriating magical communities worldwide with his careless attacks on muggles? The wizard that has assembled a massive following that he plans to dominate the rest of the world with?"

The girl's voice had rose in volume and pitch as she poked the questions at Tom, who had become increasingly intrigued at each new titbit of information. Most of the class were staring at them now, apparently finding the Ravenclaw's rant to be much more engaging than their professor.

"Tom – you shouldn't be talking about this. Come on," Orion whispered in his ear, and Tom barely resisted the urge to bat the other boy away.

Nevertheless, he thanked the Ravenclaw and turned back to his desk, appeasing Orion who appeared to be quite uncomfortable.

"Salazar, Tom, you can't go around asking those sorts of questions. You're too ignorant about the wizarding world - "

"Quiet, Black."

"No – Tom, listen. Grindelwald is a… controversial subject," Orion was quite for a second, and Tom had the sense to not speak up. "Many in Slytherin support him, or have family members that do. It would be unwise for you to start asking questions after the man – you're already a target enough as it is."

Tom shook his head. "You tell me about him then, if you're so worried about my asking."

Orion squirmed. "I don't really know much…"

"That's a lie, Black. _Tell me_."

Orion's eyes became unfocused for a second, before clearing up again and he stared at Tom in suspicion. "What did you just do?"

Tom didn't outwardly show it, but he was shocked. His compulsions _always_ worked.

"Nothing."

"Lies!" Orion threw Tom's own words back at him, and Tom turned his back to the boy, ignoring him.

"You can't ignore me, Tom."

Tom continued ignoring him.

"You tried to do something to me – I know it. I'm not an idiot, Tom Riddle."

That was debatable.

"Circe, Tom, I thought we were friends."

"Friends?" Tom repeated, swivelling round in his chair to face Orion, sarcasm dripping from his words. "You thought we were friends? Buddies? Are you really so naïve, Black?"

Tom's tone became harsher, and he encroached on Orion's space, practically pressed up against the boy. "I thought you had previously made it clear that we could never be friends, Black."

"Things are different now, Tom! You're a parselmouth – and everyone knows!"

Tom slapped his hand over Orion's mouth, stealing a glance over at the Ravenclaws. "Not everyone, Black," he hissed.

Orion nodded, prying Tom's fingers away. "Sorry. But you understand, don't you? I couldn't be friends with you when everyone thought you were some common mudblood, but now you've practically announced that you're the heir of Slytherin…"

Orion had continued on talking, but Tom didn't hear him. Blood rushed past his ears, a strange feeling thrumming in his chest. When he spoke, interrupting Orion, his voice felt disembodied – as if he was disconnected from his body.

"I'm what?"

Orion slowed, realisation dawning. "What… you don't know?"

" _Why would I know!_ " Tom rushed out, clutching at Orion's wrists. "Tell me everything."

Orion swallowed, gently pulling his arms out of Tom's bruising grip and for the first time, he appeared to be genuinely nervous.

"Tom, parseltongue is a magical ability inherited by descendants of Salazar Slytherin."

Tom's heat stilled in his chest.


End file.
